A Snail's Eye View

Jottings from the Tropics: 27 January 2012

2012-01-27T18:01:00.004+10:00

Nothing happened today. Actually, that's not strictly true. I had to go into town this morning, but that wasn't even remotely eventful. And then I came home and worked. And am still working. And will probably not finish today's 'to do' list until the small hours. (Hmmmm. If I don't make a list, would that mean there's nothing to do? Makes note. Damn. That's something.)

Even the pademelons could not shift my focus, although they tried. Oh, they tried. I saw Red with his nose pressed against the window, willing me to go to the fridge and get him something to eat. It didn't work. Later I heard Pip menacing the brush turkeys. I think it was Pip. It was unlikely to be any other paddie, because most of them are too timid. And Red doesn't bother with the threats. He usually just belts them without warning. It's marsupials red in tooth and claw around here.

But what this means is that I have nothing to report. How. Can. This. Be?

Music for writing

2012-01-27T18:01:00.000+10:00

Tonight's music for writing:

The Go Betweens, Cattle and Cane

The Black Sorrows, Chained to the Wheel

Tableland on Fridays: Pubs!

2012-01-27T18:00:00.000+10:00

The two best known* hotels on the Tablelands are in Yungaburra and Malanda. Both were built in the 1900s from timber cut and milled locally and neither has changed much over the past century.

The Lake Eacham Hotel (a.k.a. the Yungaburra Pub) has a small public bar but a big dining area and a huge accommodation section. When I lived in Townsville, it was a favourite destination for a few days away from the heat (and work). The weekend buffets were extraordinary. I remember a Mars bar cheesecake that had sliced confectionery for the base. At least, I think I remember it. I might have had a few gin & tonics as a pre-dinner drink. (It's the tropics, after all).

The place has gone through some sticky times lately with a high turnover in owners. But it looks as though it might be improving. Good news, because it's too important to lose. The Cairns Post has an audio slide show with some comments from the locals.

The Lake Eacham Hotel is the white building
in the middle of the image. No, not that one.
The other white building. The very big one.

Yes, that one.

The Lake Eacham Hotel is reckoned to be the second largest wooden building in Australia. The Malanda Hotel is the largest. (I mentioned last week that Malanda was a town of superlatives.) It possibly holds the record for the Southern Hemisphere. Doesn't matter. It's a grand old building that celebrated its centenary last year.

You can't miss the pub in Malanda.
Don't make me point it out.

In an attempt to give you an idea of the size of this building, I used that highly scientific method of measuring it on Google Earth. By my dodgy calculations, the sides are each about 50 m (160') long. That's not all bar space, you understand. Some of it is ballroom and there's also a bottle shop and a hairdresser. Those long verandahs are very welcome on a hot or rainy day. As are the offerings in the bar.

What better sight? (Almost) the first thing you see as you drive in from Atherton

Western side of the hotel with its 50 m verandah
(Image recycled from an earlier post)

Lovely absence of hot sun/ torrential rain.
On the right: bottle shop, hairdresser and public bar

Northern side of the hotel.
That first door leads to the ballroom and the grand staircase.

The Cairns Post also has a slide show of the Malanda Hotel with images of the public bar and ballroom. I'll take some photos of the interior for a later post.
__________

* to me

Jottings from the Tropics: 26 January 2012

2012-01-26T18:01:00.000+10:00

Since I mentioned that the birds have been ignoring the quandong near the house, that tree has been alive with bridled and Macleay’s honeyeaters. And giant mutant giant genetically-engineered giant bees. That’s what they look like, anyway. My insect identifications are not always accurate.

- o O o -

But I can recognise a huntsman spider when I see one and a very large huntsman has moved into the frame of the living room window. As a consequence, the Litoria rubella tree frogs have shifted to the other side. Now, instead of spending the evening sitting on the window panes, they peek out from the safety of the grooves in the aluminium. I can see an amphibian episode of A Current Affair coming up — one of those ‘bad neighbour’ shows, featuring out of focus, shaky surveillance footage of the menacing eight-legged monster that has moved in next door.

V.O: 

THERE WILL BE TEARS. THERE WILL BE ACCUSATIONS. THIS
IS A SHOW THAT NO AUSTRALIAN CAN AFFORD TO MISS.

- o O o -

Little Poss dropped in again last night. We workshopped the ACA segment with me as pushy reporter and him as taciturn neighbour. He watched me make dinner, ever hopeful that some of that food would make its way through the flyscreen. Then a cicada landed next to him. It was a golden emperor, plump and shimmering and utterly irresistible to a pretend-starving possum. Little Poss grabbed it, bit off its head and wings and then sucked out the innards. He spent the rest of the evening cleaning the goo off his muzzle. It took me a while to get back to my dinner. I had planned on a Cornetto for dessert. After that, it did not seem so appealing.

Pademelon at the pane

2012-01-26T18:00:00.000+10:00

Pademelons might not have good eyesight, but there is nothing wrong with their ability to smell. (That is, their facility for detecting scents, not their general ponginess.)

I made a fruit salad from all the items that were about to experience the Instant Rot function on my refrigerator. Before I had even taken the first mouthful, this is what appeared at the living room window. Red probably couldn't see me, but he could certainly pick up the delicious aroma of mango, red pawpaw and bananas.

He eventually gave up when I showed him the empty bowl. If he's lucky, I might throw out the banana skin later this evening. Mind you, it's not as if he's starving. He's a well-padded pademelon.

Jottings from the Tropics: 25 January 2012

2012-01-25T18:01:00.000+10:00

It rained a bit yesterday amount. Not a lot — only about 50 mm (2 in) compared to Atherton’s 130 mm — but in a brief burst that overflowed the gutters and set the temporary creek running. My next house will have very wide eaves and not a single gutter. In fact, I might just live in a tent. Or possibly an old powder blue Kombi with sunflower print curtains and no wheels. Yeah, I have plans.

- o O o -

Before the rain settled in, I headed into Atherton. The sarus cranes that visit during the dry season have all returned to their summer grounds on the Gulf of Carpentaria, so the drive is not very interesting. Still, I saw a pair of buff-banded rails shepherding their brood across the road. At the last minute, one of the six little balls of fluff panicked and scuttled back to where it came from. I hope it got a good telling off and won’t do that again.

- o O o -

I had thought that the rain was responsible for the small branches across the driveway near Paracutin, the megapode mound. But I have just witnessed an orange-footed scrubfowl rake out of the way a branch more than 20 mm in diameter and almost two metres long. If I could only work out a way to harness that avian single-mindedness and those massive feet...I could be rich! Rich beyond the dreams of...Okay, I could have mulch piles everywhere. And that has to be worth something.

- o O o -

The red-browed finches came back this afternoon to select more grass stems for their dream home. I had the camera to hand. O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! It was to hand because I’d just finished downloading yesterday’s snaps. I had switched it off, but had not yet unplugged it from the laptop. Fortunately, I was leaning against the desk when I grabbed the camera, so the computer didn’t go far. Honestly, I reckon the birds do it on purpose.

Blue quandong: tree of many colours

2012-01-25T18:00:00.000+10:00

Not that you would know from the way I've been avoiding the subject, but the blue quandongs (Elaeocarpus angustifolia, syn. E. grandis) are flowering at the moment.

1 January 2012

24 January 2012

25 January 2012

They are magnificent trees, although not really suitable for small gardens. Not only do they grow rapidly, but they also spread out. Mature trees are buttressed (I'm sure we can all identify with that) and have extensive crowns. They also do this.

Still, if you've got the space, they are stunning to look at. Leaves are light green, turning scarlet before they fall. As with most vine forest trees, leaves drop throughout the year, so there is always a decorative highlight or two.

1 January 2012

The fruit has pale green flesh enclosed in an iridescent blue skin. Botanist David Lee uncovered the source of the blue colour — it is not a pigment, as is the case with many other fruit, but a property of the microscopic structure of the skin. It is produced by multi-layer interference in a similar way to the iridescent blue of bird feathers and butterfly wings. [Some of the links are dead in that post. I will have to write an updated version.]

In Nature's Palette, Lee writes:

This tree is sacred in India, where the stony inner fruit is highly ornamented and used for bracelets and necklaces (malas) for reciting prayers and sacred sounds. The sadhus (spiritual seekers) wandering the countryside frequently carry malas of rudraksha [local name for the tree] beads...I discovered that the interference color of the rudraksha fruits is indeed produced by a structure whose cellulose layers are of the predicted thickness to produce blue. This structure, which I have called an "iridosome", is different from those seen in leaves; it is secreted by the epidermal cells of the fruit and is located outside the cell membrane but inside the cell wall.

20 November 2011

Despite their attractive appearance, the fruit are not much favoured by the pademelons. They take a bite and then move on, so forest floor is littered with barely nibbled ripe quandongs. Wompoo and topknot pigeons, spotted catbirds and tooth-billed bowerbirds, on the other hand, make the most of the all you can eat buffet.

20 November 2011

The seeds are enclosed in a wrinkled endocarp ~~that looks a bit like a brain after a night without sleep because of an owl~~. They are also plentiful on the forest floor. (Better pictures here.) It's a wonder that everything isn't coming up quandongs.

25 January 2012

Reference
Lee, D. (2007). Nature's Palette: The Science of Plant Color. University of Chicago Press.

Wot? More days off?

2012-01-24T10:00:00.000+10:00

No, just the one.

Back tomorrow.

Jottings from the Tropics: 23 January 2012

2012-01-23T18:01:00.000+10:00

One of the lesser sooty owls is coming off my Christmas card list.

I finally fell asleep last night some time after 2a.m. Only to be woken at 4.30 a.m. by an owl calling not two metres from my bedroom window. The words, ‘shut up’, did not have an effect on the bird. Neither did ‘shut up, you [deleted] owl,’ which I uttered in case the [deleted] owl thought I was talking to the possums.

I found a torch and shone it on the [deleted] owl, which blinked and then turned its back on me, barely missing a beat. It stopped calling a few minutes before 5.30 a.m. By this time I was wide awake and plotting my revenge. I plan to stand under its roost and talk loudly. That’ll fix it. And if it doesn’t, I’m selling that [deleted] owl to Hogwarts.

- o O o -

On the subject of rainforest sounds, I can pick the location of the big quandong just from the hum of insects flying around its flowers. This is not a particularly useful skill. It is much easier to identify a quandong by looking for a huge tree with feathery white flowers, bright blue fruit or a lichen-encrusted branch dropping towards your head, depending on the time of year. Still, it’s a pleasant sound and is mostly restricted to the daylight hours.

- o O o -

Contractors working for Ergon (our electricity supplier) will be around soon to trim back the vegetation from the power lines. The tree loppers are generally very careful with their work and don’t hack out great swathes of greenery. Their limit is three metres either side of the lines.

One of the contractors dropped in today to check with me about removing a few small trees that were leaning out from inside my property boundary. They were white cedars and black wattles, which are abundant and fast-growing pioneer species, so I had no concerns about them being cut down. So it will be noisy here for a few days as the loppers chop and mulch along the edge of the road. But they'll be chopping and mulching in daylight hours. [Deleted] owl, take note.

Preening singers

2012-01-23T18:00:00.000+10:00

On most days, in the late afternoon, a pair of spotted catbirds perches in the Melicope tree. They sing elaborate songs, engaging in call and response with each other and with catbird pairs in neighbouring territories. These songs have many elements: a bell-like tink, metallic chattering and the characteristic 70s experimental synth caterwauling. I love catbird calls, but the birds can certainly project.

They often intersperse their singing with grooming. Who says they are lousy singers?

Jottings from the Tropics: 22 Jan 2012

2012-01-22T18:01:00.000+10:00

Only a short post today, because I must focus on some projects that are close to completion. Is that light ahead: a) the end of the tunnel; b) an oncoming train; or c) an optical phenomenon caused by decreased oxygen supply to the retina? I suppose I will find out soon enough.

In order to move things along, I am working on two computers. Only one is connected to the internet. Time spent at the other computer is the most productive. No, I can’t explain it either. I guess it is something to do with ley lines and the Earth’s magnetic field.

- o O o -

Little Poss must have been at the red cordial last night. He clambered up and down the flyscreen for hours, pausing occasionally to peer at me and resuming when I did not pay attention. He eventually gave up and ran up and down the roof instead.When I went out into the garden that evening, I saw that he had peed on the step. Possums, as I have mentioned before, are half fur and half bladder, so I had to get out the hose. I suppose he was marking his territory. Or making a point.

Tonight, I am going to make a point by taking away the broom. Let’s see how he manages to get down from the window sill without his ‘ladder’.

- o O o -

The cattle across the river are making a racket. It sounds as though the farmer’s given up on the Holsteins and replaced them with a herd of mid-sized dinosaurs. That will be a talking point at the dairy factory tomorrow.

- o O o -

The big quandong is covered in so many white flowers that it looks like a wedding cake. No wonder the lorikeets and honeyeaters don’t feel the need to visit the smaller tree next to the house. But that’s okay, because the blossoms are beautiful enough on their own. Brightly-coloured birds would just be icing on the...er...would be too much.

Cairns birdwing butterfly

2012-01-22T18:00:00.000+10:00

It doesn't happen often, but sometimes I do have the right lens on the camera. This female Cairns birdwing (Ornithoptera euphorion) visited the garden yesterday, while the long lens was fitted and the battery charged. Although birdwings are frequent visitors, they are very active, rarely settling for more than a second or two. The males tend to keep to the canopy, whereas the females explore the lower levels of the rainforest in search of Aristolochia and Pararistolochia on which to lay their eggs. (The caterpillars do not survive to adulthood on the introduced ornamental Aristolochia elegans. Because of this, the plant is is now a declared weed in Queensland.)

I'm not sure this picture gives an impression of the wingspan, but it is about 150 mm (6 in).

Two other species of Ornithoptera birdwings occur in Australia: Richmond birdwing (O. richmondia) of southern Queensland and northern New South Wales, and New Guinea or Cape York birdwing (O. priamus) of northern Cape York Peninsula and Torres Strait.

Jottings from the Tropics: 21 Jan 2012

2012-01-21T18:01:00.000+10:00

The monsoon trough is grazing the northernmost parts of the continent, according to the Bureau of Meteorology. (They might not have used those exact words.) But there are no indications that any tropical lows (a.k.a. potential cyclones) will form in the Coral Sea over the next few days. This suits me fine. The BoM radar at Cairns currently shows a flock of small storms heading NW from the ocean. It is one of those sunshine – rain – sunshine – rain days. That suits me fine as well. When the monsoon trough saunters further south, as is forecast for the early part of next week, the story might change.

- o O o -

I was planning —as I often do — to reduce the number of items of my ‘to do’ list. On occasion I have crossed off every one, but these instances are so rare that they only just exceed the number of authenticated living thylacine sightings in Australia. Number one on the list was the dull but necessary task of pulling out clumps of long grass at the edge of the drive. The pademelons don’t keep them under control and even the caterpillars make little impact. It was time for mass poacide.

But the red-browed finches were perched on the grass stems this morning, selecting the best ones to take away for their nests. Like the tooth-billed bowerbird with his ginger leaves, the finches were very fussy. They scrutinised each stalk until they found the most suitable, the look of concentration enhanced by those scarlet eyebrows. I can’t kill the grass yet. I will have to wait until the finches have finished their construction.

- o O o -

Last night I noticed that not one but two Litoria rubella occupy the window frame. This explains the frog’s apparent ability to break the laws of physics by disappearing from one spot and instantaneously reappearing at another. Although, I suppose, a frog’s jumping skill might also go some way towards explaining that. There is plenty of food to sustain the pair of small, but chubby, amphibians — the windows are covered in little moths and leafhoppers, every one a perfect snack.

- o O o -

The young person on the grocery checkout this morning was surprised that I hadn’t realised that Thursday is Australia Day. I thought it best not to mention that I hadn’t even realised that today is ~~Sunday~~Saturday. There is no need to provide more support for my status as a dotty old lady.

Grooming is important

2012-01-21T18:00:00.000+10:00

Pademelons host an impressive collection of ectoparasites, including fleas, ticks and louse flies (Hippoboscidae) that scuttle through the fur, so it is no wonder they are fastidious about grooming. They pay particular attention to their ears, which they clean after they've dealt with paws and muzzle.

It is not always easy to get photos of paddies washing their faces. Although they will scratch themselves and chew their toenails with abandon, they are more secretive about this aspect of grooming. Even Red, who doesn't care much who's watching, retired to the long grass. But he didn't count on the longer lens.

I am impressed that he doesn't do himself any damage with those claws. I've been scratched (accidentally) and they are very, very sharp.

Jottings from the Tropics: 20 Jan 2012

2012-01-20T18:03:00.000+10:00

I’ve been stuck at home for a few days — you couldn’t tell, could you? — so today I went into town to have coffee with a friend and catch up on the local news. One of the best places for such activities is the bakery. (This is true of all country towns, but our bakery is the best on the Tablelands.) I was a little disappointed that they hadn’t made a batch of vanilla slices —each one over 300 cm3 of custardy goodness and a visual treat to boot — so I took a photo of the pie selection instead. Who needs them there fancy restaurants in Cairns when you’ve got this?

- o O o -

Before I returned home, I picked up my mail from the post office. Among the letters was a Christmas card, which had been sent from the UK by airmail. It had come to me via Canada. I can only imagine that someone at the sorting office had confused Queensland with Quebec. Still, it travelled around the world and arrived within four weeks. That’s not bad going.

Friends in Melbourne, who admit to being slow in sending out their Christmas cards, once made a special effort to post them early. They were surprised and dismayed to discover that the cards still turned up several weeks late. Apparently, they had been delivered first to Goroka in the New Guinea Highlands, before being redirected to their original destination — the east coast of Scotland. It is an easy mistake to make.

Having said that, I love Australia Post. It’s a darned good service.

- o O o -

Not much rain today. The brush turkeys are taking advantage of the break in the weather to do a spot of sun-worshipping. As I type this, about half a dozen of them are sprawled out in the garden, some on their backs, others on their sides. It looks like the world’s cheapest military re-enactment.

- o O o -

When the wind shakes the rainforest canopy, it sends down showers of copper-coloured winged seeds — samaras — from the tulip oaks (Argyrodendron). These germinate almost as soon as they land. Other wind-borne seeds are drifting around, including at least one type carried along on white plumes. I have yet to catch one of those. I might have to break out the long-handled insect net. As you know, collecting seeds in serious business.

Music for writing

2012-01-20T18:02:00.000+10:00

Tonight's music for writing:

Paul Kelly, To Her Door

Paul Kelly, Dumb Things

Pratchett's DEATH on the nature of being human

2012-01-20T18:01:00.000+10:00

I AM NOTHING IF NOT LITERAL-MINDED. TRICKERY WITH WORDS IS WHERE HUMANS LIVE.

‘All right,’ said Susan. ‘I’m not stupid. You’re saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable.’

REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.

‘Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—‘

YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.

‘So we can believe the big ones?’

YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.

‘They’re not the same at all!’

YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET— Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MIGHT BE JUDGED.

... YOU NEED TO BELIEVE IN THINGS THAT AREN’T TRUE. HOW ELSE CAN THEY BECOME?

Terry Pratchett, Hogfather.

The telemovie sticks close to the book:

You might very well think that DEATH sounds like Ian Richardson. I couldn't possibly comment.

Tablelands on Friday: Malanda Art Trail pt 2

2012-01-20T18:00:00.000+10:00

Welcome to the second and final post on the mosaics of the Malanda Art Trail.

Commerce is on English Street, which, together with part of James Street, constitutes Malanda's CBD. This mosaic depicts the rural industries that keep the region thriving.

Border tiles show Tablelands agriculture...

tourism...

service industries...

and local government.

The central mosaic represents the arts and creative activities of Tableland residents.

Dairying is so important to Malanda that it gets its own mosaic. The graph in the bottom left corner shows the decrease in the number of farms (red line) and the increase in production (white bars) over the years.

The dairy industry is almost as old as the town. Cattle were brought here from New South Wales.

The butter factory (link to a report in the Courier-Mail, 12 March 1934).

At one stage, the town boasted the world's longest milk run, providing fresh milk to Darwin (2,800 km).

And...er...moving right along...

The Majestic Theatre hosts the Recreation mosaic.

The central scene recreates the events of 25 March 1931, when Don Bradman and his team took on the locals. Five thousand people turned up to watch. Fortunately, not all of them stayed for the dance later that night.

Some of the town's current (and former) recreational activities. The golf course did not last long because it was impossible to keep the grass short, despite the best efforts of lawn-mowing sheep.

Transport features a steam locomotive crossing the North Johnstone River downstream from Malanda Falls.When built, the bridge was the largest concrete construction in Queensland. Yes, this is a town of superlatives.

I'm sure vehicles like this are still in operation on some parts of the Tablelands.

A few of these too.

The Gillies Highway is now open to traffic in both directions. Well, most of the time. Would you believe 50%? It remains an exciting drive.

That brings us to the end of the mosaic trail. Next week, I'll show you around a couple of our pubs, where you're likely to find a completely different set of artists.

Jottings from the Tropics: 19 Jan 2012

2012-01-19T18:01:00.000+10:00

I left a pile of plant debris in the garden. This is because I am ~~lazy~~ careful to ensure that nutrients are recycled. It does not take long for organic material to decay in this climate. It is even faster than the crisper drawer in your fridge. (Although not my fridge, which has an Instant Rot function.)

Now Harry the brush turkey is eyeing off the debris pile as the foundations of a new incubation mound. I saw him circling it this morning. Then he strode to the top and looked around ~~like stout Cortez~~. [Ed.— the pile is not that tall] I think he views it as prime real estate.

I will be redistributing that garden waste before he enacts his plan. This is a lesson well learnt.

- o O o -

Pip the joey has Harry completely cowed. He sidles around her. She might remain at the bottom of the social order with the other pademelons, but she is Tyrant of the Turkeys.

He has brought this on himself. Harry —and the hens — will snatch food from a pademelon’s paws. Sometimes, a turkey pecks at the paddie’s nose first to distract it from the imminent theft. The birds are appalling standover merchants.

Red, the big adult male paddie, was the first of the mob to fight back. If a turkey approached with what looks like felonious intent, he will wrestle the meddlesome megapode, growling and hissing and trying to bite through the feathers. This frequently backfires. While Red is dealing out rough marsupial justice, another turkey sneaks in and steal the food.

Of course, Harry does not take this treatment without responding. He strikes open-beaked at Red’s backside. Not that he ever makes contact. And I’ve yet to see him do it from the side. It is always from behind. But that's not the point. It's about the vibe. He probably doesn’t know that a pademelon can do a 180 degree turn in one leap. I hope I’ve got the camera ready when he finds out.

- o O o -

Windows are not good for productivity. Earlier today, a large male Lumholtz’s tree kangaroo hopped up the driveway, detoured around the house and continued into the forest. He was a particularly striking animal, strongly marked with black and charcoal grey across his shoulders, back and tail. I am still sitting here, with the camera on my lap, in the hope that he will hop past again.

Tomorrow I might visit Atherton racetrack to steal a set of blinkers.

The window frog

2012-01-19T18:00:00.000+10:00

Although I have the Post It note to remind me, I sometimes forget to check the living room windows for frogs before opening them at night. Yesterday, the resident tree frog (in this case, a Litoria rubella) slipped in between the sliding and fixed panes.

It's not that I mind having tree frogs inside the house — I lived in Townsville for more than a decade, where green tree frogs #occupythetoiletbowl — but they tend not to last long. Squashed in windows, smothered by giant dust bunnies, trodden on by people...None of these sounds like a pleasant way to die. So when a frog (or lizard) comes into the house, I evict it. Politely, of course. It's important to remember one's manners.

The most common indoor frog in this area is the green-eyed tree frog (Litoria serrata), which is a true rainforest species. Litoria rubella is more widespread and occurs in a range of habitats, including arid ones.

Distribution of Litoria rubella
Atlas of Living Australia

In the narrative of the Horn Expedition to Central Australia (Through Larapinta Land), Baldwin Spencer remarked on the frogs along the Hugh River, an intermittent watercourse on the edge of the Simpson Desert:

The animal life was just the same as that to which we had grown accustomed around the water-holes amongst the ranges. A few species of insects and myriapods, and the little frog Hyla rubella were abundant under the stones close to the water...the little Hyla rubella was found at every water-hole from the Adminga Creek in the south to Alice Springs in the north, and westwards right throughout the ranges.

I'm not sure why I have L. rubella, while everyone else has L. serrata, but I am certain that the frog is happier to be here than in a spot near the middle of the map.

Reference
Spencer, B. (1896). Report on the work of the Horn Scientific Expedition to Central Australia: Part 1. London: Dulau and Co.

Jottings from the Tropics: 18 January 2012

2012-01-18T18:01:00.000+10:00

The alarm is set for 6 a.m. I’m still waking to La bloody Traviata. It’s irritating, but it’s the best of a dreadful bunch. Other choices include the cancan, the Toreador Song and Für Elise, all of them played at not quite the right tempo. Especially Für Elise. Had he not gone deaf, Beethoven would have poked out his ear drums with a sharpened quill rather than listen to this version. I know this for a fact.

But I digress.

I hit snooze on the alam, but I usually don’t have to worry too much about oversleeping. At some time between 6 and 6.30 a.m. — possibly summoned by the merry electronic din that approximates Verdi’s drinking song — a Lewin’s honeyeater lands on the flyscreen of the bedroom window to pick out insects and spiders. I don’t know if you’ve been within a metre of a Lewin’s honeyeater when it calls...

But it’s not only the noise, it’s also the judgemental stare: Why am I still supine when there is work to be done?

It is a sad state when you are looked down upon by something that steals dead months from spider webs.

- o O o -

Not that I like to anthromorphise, as you know, but I suspect those introduced cockroaches are capable of not only rational thought, but also an ability to plan. Exhibit One: archy. Exhibit Two: a well-considered strategy for gaining entry to the house.

Native cockroaches — of which there are many species in the rainforest — tend to sit on the door and window panes, not doing very much at all. Introduced cockroaches are different. They insinuate themselves between screen door and main kitchen door. This means that when I slide open the main door, they have access to the kitchen. And you know how fast Periplaneta can run.Sometimes they fly.

They used to have to slip under the weather strip along the spine of the screen door. It wasn’t much of a barrier, but it was something. Now they simply scuttle through the cockroach-sized gap kicked in the flyscreen by the brush turkeys. With turkeys and cockroaches in cahoots, it is clear that I can never win.

Is it a tamarind? Is it an orange? No, it's...

2012-01-18T18:00:00.000+10:00

One of the tallest trees at the rainforest edge bears fruit that look like small oranges. It belongs to family Celastraceae and represents the burial of the 'all plants that fruit at this time of the year are called tamarinds, whether they are tamarinds or not' hypothesis advanced some posts ago. The hypothesis has been dead for a while: it is about time that I put it in the ground.

This is icewood or ivorywood (Siphonodon membranaceus). Although it appears citrusy, the fruit is almost as hard as wood. The holes are emergence burrows of sawflies, which probably spend most of their lives excavating in an insect version of the Great Escape. If I look carefully, I'm sure I will find a little sawfly-sized vaulting horse and a solitary confinement cell.

Seeds are buried deep within the granular flesh. This is the sort of challenge that white-tailed rats enjoy — along with macadamias, coconuts and tinned beans — but the gnawer of this fruit seems to have given it away. I can't say I blame it. Those seeds would have to taste like chocolate...

Siphonodon membranaceus, like many other plant species here, is a Wet Tropics endemic.

Specimen data reproduced from Australia's Virtual Herbarium
with permission of the Council of Heads of Australasian Herbaria Inc.

Two other species of ivorywood are found in Australia. Siphonodon australis occurs in vine thickets and Araucaria forests from northern New South Wales to Cape York Peninsula (CYP). Siphonodon pendulus is a species of tropical eucalypt woodland from Georgetown to the tip of CYP.

Yet another day off

2012-01-17T10:00:00.000+10:00

I'm going to listen to the sound of this...

...on the tin roof. (The rain, not the trees. Definitely not the trees. The sound of those on a tin roof would be anything but relaxing. I wish I hadn't mentioned it now.)

Back tomorrow.

Jottings from the Tropics: 16 Jan 2012

2012-01-16T18:01:00.000+10:00

Allow me a Fotherington-Thomas moment: Hullo, sky. Hullo, clouds. Hullo, rain.

- o O o -

Every now and then, I hear voices coming from the driveway. This is not all that unusual. Birdwatchers often wander along the road, looking for Wet Tropics endemics at the edge of the rainforest. Occasionally they’ll walk a few metres up the drive where they can get a good view of the big quandong. As long as they don’t come up to the house, that’s fine. Setting up camp and digging latrines are right out.

These voices are indistinct. Only when I listen closely do I make out what they are saying and so identify the source. Most visitors do not chant, ‘wom-poo, wom-poo’ or ‘wollack-a-woo’ from the tops of trees. (And when I say most, that’s what I mean. I know some odd people.) Wompoo fruit-doves, those over-sized and over-coloured rainforest pigeons, have a very human tone to their calls. The timbre is different from that of the emerald dove or the brown cuckoo-dove, which likes to ask ‘did you walk?’ but refuses to accept the answer. Topknots are reluctant to make much noise and the less said about peaceful doves in the build up to the Wet the better. (That’s an opinion formed from eleven years in Townsville, most of them without air-conditioning. I don’t like to talk about it.)

- o O o -

The hot, dry weather — which seems to have passed — brought a range of birds to the terracotta dish that I like to refer to as a bird bath. Others refer to it as an utter disgrace and suggest I get something better. Anyway, the grey-headed robins love this dish. In the later afternoons, I have to fill it several times as the robins line up for a swish around in the shallow water. Depending on the temperature, some might ant as well. They pick up the insects from the patio. No one can say I don't provide a good service.

- o O o -

A ruddy or desert treefrog (Litoria rubella) spends the nights patrolling the living room windows looking for small insects attracted by the lights. It has an unfortunate habit of squeezing into the frame, so I always check before opening or closing the window. I have stuck a Post It note to the handle to remind me. Anyone who has lived with treefrogs and/or geckos will know the problem. My house in Townsville had a motif of dried Hemidactylus geckos along the door jamb. I left them there as an aide memoire. Well, you know, waste not, want not.

The fly with the golden bum

2012-01-16T18:00:00.000+10:00

Since publication of the Beyoncé fly story, I’ve been scrutinising horseflies before swatting them. I don’t swat them indiscriminately, you understand, but if one of them lands on me with a view to a chew, then that’s it. I’d rather leave them to fly another day, but I react badly to their bites. To prevent that, I react badly to their presence. I like to think of it not as killing defenceless insects, but as engineering a new breed of faster, cannier blood-suckers.

Although Scaptia (Plinthina) beyonceae received all the media attention, it is only one of five new species described by Bryan Lessard and David Yeates in the Australian Journal of Entomology. Equally striking is a second new species of goldenfly recorded from the same part of Far North Queensland.

Scaptia (Plinthina) aurifulga — the golden lightning fly — is currently known only from the Davies Creek region, east of Mareeba, where it overlaps the range of the Beyoncé fly. The GL fly is adorned with shimmering golden bands along either side of its abdomen and around its ‘waist’. This is a fly dressed to the nines.

Scaptia (Plinthina) aurifulga Lessard, 2011
(From Lessard and Yeates, 2011)

In future, I will check before I swat. I am extending this courtesy to these flies only. They shouldn’t be too hard to spot, decked out with all that bling. Others get the treatment.

Reference
Lessard, B.D. and Yeates, D.K. (2011). New species of the Australian horse fly subgenus Scaptia (Plinthina) Walker 1850 (Diptera: Tabanidae), including species descriptions and a revised key. Australian Journal of Entomology 50: 241 – 252.

Jottings from the Tropics: 15 Jan 2012

2012-01-15T18:01:00.000+10:00

My 1,500th post!

- o O o -

I’ve just had a conversation with a brush turkey in...er...brush turkish. It must be my accent because the bird did not seem to understand what I was saying. I tried talking louder, but that didn't’t help. We abandoned the conversation, confused. He pecked at the ground and I feigned an interest in my diary. Perhaps we will try again later.

- o O o -

Mount Bartle Frere was hidden by clouds when I drove into town earlier today. (I presume that’s what happened. I suppose Mt BF could have upped and gone on holiday like Billy the Mountain.) This looked promising.

After a morning of thunder, the rain — such that it was — arrived at around midday. According to Bureau of Meteorology data, we have had only 7 mm of rain so far this month. The lowest January total (since 2001, when the station started recording) was 103 mm, the highest 503 mm and the average 307 mm. January is going to have to take a long hard look at itself. That goes for the monsoon trough, too.

- o O o -

I have been leaving open the shed doors during the prolonged dry spell. This is in the hope that the heat and lowered humidity will rid the shed and its contents of mould. Everything had been fine until Cyclone Yasi, when I gathered up the loose items in the carport and locked them in the shed so they wouldn’t be picked up by the winds and launched towards the neighbours at 200km/hr. In fact, everything was fine for a some time after that. But it went downhill when I couldn’t be bothered to drag it all out of the shed again.

The interior of the shed now looks as though it's been spray painted in black and grey. Mould and mildew coat every surface, sending up miniature cauliflowers of spore bodies. At night, I am kept awake by the sound of clinking glasses and tiny laughter as the fungi get together in their equivalent of the Algonquin Round Table to exchange bons mots and barbs and discuss the latest novels and foreign language movies. They have given a new meaning to the notion of culture.(Some of this might not be true.)

- o O o -

But fungi are not the only troublemakers. The gap between the western side of the house and the forest narrows each day. I think the space is closing too fast to blame it on regrowth and these are not pioneer species. There’s a suggestion of Birnam Woods about this. I am going to check for little furry paws holding onto the stems.

White-throated treecreeper

2012-01-15T18:00:00.000+10:00

White-throated treecreepers (Cormobates leucophaea) are common here. They often travel in pairs, flying from tree to tree, working their way up the trunks as they hunt for ants and other insects.

One of their regular spots is a tree about four metres from the kitchen door. They drop in just before dusk, when the light has faded and it is almost impossible to get a good handheld shot with the long lens.Most of the time I don't even try to take a photo and am content to watch the birds go about their business. Sometimes, I give it a go and nearly succeed.

John Gould recorded that "[w]hile traversing the trunks in search of insects, which it does with great facility, it utters a shrill piping cry'. This call reminded him of the European Climacteris treecreepers (to which it is related), as did the way in which it ascended the "upright trunks of the trees, commencing at the bottom and gradually creeping up to the bole at the top, generally in a spiral direction."

You can listen to the call of the white-throated treecreeper here. My birds are less voluble than Gould's birds. I hardly ever hear them. Perhaps they don't like to talk with their beaks full of food?

Jottings from the Tropics: 14 Jan 2012

2012-01-14T18:01:00.000+10:00

I am trying to decide which is the best part of the day. Dawn has its bird chorus, starting with grey-headed robins and spotted catbirds and building to a massed choir of scrubwrens, doves and fantails. Midday is quieter, but just as lively. As the sun moves overhead, it stirs up the butterflies — blue triangles, jezebels and birdwings, ringlets and rustics and bush-browns. In the late afternoon, bridled honeyeaters chase each other through the trees. The honeyeaters and catbirds try to outsing each other with musical compositions that are part Stockhausen, part Philip Glass. Evening is heralded by a wrap up from the tooth-billed bowerbird, by the cicada glee club and the clatter and whirr of brush turkey wings as the birds fly up to roost. And night is for possums and owls and maniacally-cackling scrubfowl.

I can’t decide. Maybe there is no need to choose.

- o O o -

No progress on my plans for a remotely-operated stinging tree removal device. I think I first have to get hold of an army bomb disposal robot. In order to do this, I must devise an elaborate Dr Horrible type plan. (Hmmm...that sort of worked out for him okay in the end. He did join the Evil League of Evil and that was what he wanted, right?)

Or I could just pull on protective gear and dig up the little bu...seedlings before they get too big.

- o O o -

I’ve been watching the Leveson Inquiry. Many of the witnesses appear to have been rounded up from the seedier bars of Mos Eisley and rendered temporarily amnesiac by a series of Jedi mind tricks. It’s the only plausible explanation.

- o O o -

And while I’m on the topic of people I don’t know, here’s a public service announcement.

Dear religious proselytisers

I’d like to make a deal with you. I’m sure you’ll find the conditions acceptable. Next time I trespass on your private property and insist that you pay attention when I inform you that you’re going to end up as food for insects, fungi and bacteria, then you can come to my place, sit outside watching the house until I return, park your very large 4WD across my driveway and tell me that I’m going to Hell for not believing in exactly the same things as you. Not before.

Seems a very reasonable deal to me. I believe it’s called quid pro quo. Sorry about the Latin. Blame it on the Leveson Inquiry. Anyway, what say you to this offer?

Now, the number of times I’ve done all that is...let me tally them up here...precisely none. I don’t know how adept you are at maths, but you might be familiar with the problem of dividing a number by zero. By my reckoning, I should now be able to annoy you in your homes for...ooh...ever. You might as well make up a room for me. I like a cup of tea first thing in the morning. Oh, and don’t talk to me before I’ve finished it. I take a while to wake up.

As I said, it sounds fair. So are we agreed?

PS I don't want to be impolite. Feel free to continue to address me in the street. It's a public place, after all. And it's not as if you're representing a telecommunications company or trying to sign me up to cable television.

- o O o -

And — as an antidote to the above — here’s a video of baby sloths having a bath and a feed of hibiscus flowers.

After dark

2012-01-14T18:00:00.000+10:00

This is what happens here after dark.

This is a coppery brushtail possum trying to find a way into the kitchen. This possum had already attempted to gain entry through the door, after which it turned its attention to the window.

It was standing on the window sill and holding onto the frame to stop itself sliding off. Completely unaware that I was only a metre away with a camera*, the possum continued to explore the screen, looking for a point of weakness.

Then it noticed me. And got such a surprise that it fell backwards off the window sill. The last I saw of it, the possum was scampering towards the trees. I expect it's currently blogging about its close encounter in the little grey cottage in the rainforest.

_____

*1250 ISO, no flash, hence the lack of crispness in the image. That and the dirt on the glass. Why, yes, I am ashamed at the condition of the windows. (The photo has been shot through two panes.) All the others are sparkling, but I lost interest when I got to these. I am thinking about cleaning them. I might even go so far as actually cleaning them.

Jottings from the Tropics: 13 Jan 2012

2012-01-13T18:02:00.000+10:00

I awoke this morning to the sound of the mobile phone alarm playing the drinking song from La Traviata. I’m not sure whether to change the tune or stow a bottle of grog next to the bed. I am considering both.

- o O o -

More hot weather. I am one day away from buying a Panama hat and two days away from a pith helmet. The Bureau of Meteorology has forecast rain for the weekend. My book stack is ready. Bring it on. (In moderate amounts.)

- o O o -

Pip the orphaned pademelon pops in occasionally. She appears hale and hearty, although it can be difficult to tell the real condition of wild animals. They tend not to let on.

She has taken a dislike to the brush turkeys. If one approaches while she’s grazing, she will hiss at it. It is a remarkably loud hiss for such a small animal and unmistakeably threatening. Should the turkey not heed the warning, Pip will stand up and do it again. The second time, the hiss comes with an undertone of Ray Winstone and more than a hint of Vinnie Jones.

This usually causes even the most fearless bird to find a sudden interest in ooh, let me see, this thing over here looks interesting. But every now and then, a courageous or possibly thick turkey persists in its approach. Then Pip gets angry. And jumps at them. See Pip jump. Jump, Pip, jump. See turkey flee into the scrub. Run, wimp, run.

To us, she’s a cute little furry thing with big hind feet and doe eyes. To them, she’s a cute little furry thing from Hell.

- o O o -

I was going to post some of the latest news stories from the Far North, but I couldn’t find any. This piece isn’t actually news nor is it from the Far North, but it involves three lucky anglers unexpectedly encountering a whale shark off Townsville.

There’s also this from ABC local radio: CSIRO unveils bootylicious Beyonce fly.

__________

[Edit: the Townsville Bulletin link might not be working for everyone, so here is the video]

Music for writing

2012-01-13T18:01:00.000+10:00

Tonight's writing soundtrack:

The Church, Under the Milky Way

The Triffids, Wide Open Road

Tablelands on Friday: Malanda Art Trail Pt 1

2012-01-13T18:00:00.000+10:00

The Malanda Art Trail is a series of nine mosaics reflecting the town's character and aspects of its history. Because there are so many photos, I'm splitting this across two posts. (Three, if you include last week's, which features the Looking Ahead mosaic on the Malanda Post Office.) I'll put up the next one on Friday 20 January. You can read more about the mosaics here (PDF).

The Original Inhabitants mosaic at Malanda Falls.

The mosaic includes a map of sites important to Ngadjonji people. Yamani, the Rainbow Serpent, encircles the land.

The Rainbow Serpent

Fruit bats (also known as flying foxes).

Recollections depicts the opening of the Malanda Hotel in 1911. Roses grow well on the Tablelands. Perhaps too well.

Looking past the statue of Nugget the horse at the wall of Malanda Rural Supplies and the Early Settlers mosaic.

An alternative view of Malanda Rural Supplies. This is a happening town.

Settlers in the late 1800s and early 1900s cut out red cedar, kauri pine and other desirable timbers.

A timber getter chops down tall timber, while a tree kangaroo surveys the encroaching farmland and wonders whether the settlers will leave any trees at all.

The surrounding tiles portray domestic scenes of the European settlers.

The Hardships and Struggles mosaic is on the wall of the hardware shop.

Another view of the building.

The blue and black columns at the bottom of the mosaic show the annual rainfall. It is highly seasonal. Most rain falls at the start of the year in the period known, in characteristic call-it-like-you-see-it-none-of-that-fancy-stuff-around-here style, as the Wet.

The mosaic presents some of the difficulties big and small faced by Atherton Tablelanders.

'Hardships' includes creepy crawlies such as flies, spiders and...wait, what?...snails and slugs. Surely some mistake there. Molluscs are our friends.

'Struggles' shows more of the little critters that vex us. Here are ticks and scorpions. (I haven't seen any scorpions, but then I haven't been looking for then. Plenty of ticks, of course, but they've been looking for me.)

Cyclones are the biggest threat. At the height of the storm, a State Emergency Services (SES) volunteer hangs onto an Australian flag. Behind him, the dunny door blows open and the loo roll begins to unwind. You can write your own punchline.

More next week.

Jottings from the Tropics: 12 Jan 2012

2012-01-12T18:01:00.000+10:00

Hot again today. Everyone's grumpy. Even the brush turkeys. Had to console myself by getting more ice cream. While in the post office, I took a vote on which flavour to buy. The consensus was lemon sorbet. A fine choice. It goes very well with mango.

- o O o -

My mobile phone succumbed to the White Screen of Death this morning. This is not a huge problem — wireless coverage is...how can I put this?...incomplete in this part of the world, so I don’t rely on the phone for everyday communication — but it is an inconvenience. I like to have a mobile phone for emergencies. (Only useful as long as those emergencies occur in an area with wireless coverage, of course, so do try to keep them close to the towers. Thank you for your attention.) So I had to replace it. And as much as I’d like to tell a heroic tale of triumphing against the odds, it was all very straightforward. The people at the Telstra Shop (not run by Telstra) in Atherton provide excellent service. Also, the shop has Antarctic levels of airconditioning. This is a winning combination.

- o O o -

Port Hedland in Western Australia has just had a visit from Tropical Cyclone Heidi. The forecasts indicate decent rainfalls in the central west of WA before the low decays completely. That’s good news for the deserts (Gibson, Victoria and Sandy major and minor). The north-west coast catches a lot of cyclones. Some of them are monsters. Severe TC Olivia (April, 1996) produced the strongest (non-tornado) wind gusts on record: 408 km/h at Barrow Island. Vance (March, 1999) not only caused extensive wind, rain and storm surge damage around Exmouth, but managed to keep the gales going as is it meandered across the continent to the Great Australian Bight. There have been plenty more.*

Mix these frequent storms with the characteristically laconic attitude of northern Westralians and you get news reports like this:

The ABC's Elise Batchelor lives in Port Hedland and says Heidi packed winds of up to 150km per hour in the height of the storm.

"We've got a smashed pot or two; I've got chimes going mad and in fact the man hole in our house up in the ceiling has been lifted off by the pressure of the wind," she said.

You can have a bit of fun looking at the tracks of cyclones in the Australian region (data to 2006 – 2007).

* And I’d mention them if I could get an internet connection that lasted for more than a few seconds

- o O o -

Oh, for crying out loud, Telstra. Just give me a consistent connection. I’m contending with rolling phases of dodginess. Just when I think there’s a pattern — drop outs during peak periods in school hols, maybe — it all changes. It’s clearly non-random, because the drop outs are clustered. But this isn’t Bletchley Park. I can’t crack this Enigma code of intermittent ADSL connection.

Did I mention that it is really hot here today? And. I. Am. Not. In. The. Mood. For. This. Nonsense.

Ain't it always the way?

2012-01-12T18:00:00.000+10:00

On Saturday, I mentioned how eastern whipbirds are shy and reclusive. On Sunday, one of them approached so close that I had difficulty focusing the camera on it.

Not that I'm complaining. But it's just so typical.

Like crested terns, they also look scruffier in real life than they do in the bird books.

Jottings from the Tropics: 11 Jan 2012

2012-01-11T18:01:00.000+10:00

It will be a miracle if this appears on schedule. The internet connection has been getting worse over the past week or so. Telstra’s mission statement appears to be: If it ain’t broke, break it.

It was too hot to do anything yesterday afternoon, so I sprawled under the ceiling fan and ~~contemplated my journey up the river to confront Kurtz~~ mused on the demise of punkahs.

When I lived in Townsville, one of the cafes on Flinders Street had sailcloth punkahs. They were effective, picturesque and dropped dead insects in your food at the same rate as rotating fans. If my next place has sufficiently high ceilings, I’ll install a set in the living room. Someone must still make them. Proper ones, that is. Not those fancy palm leaf ones that wouldn’t even stir your hair.

- o O o -

If I had some cash left over after purchasing the bespoke punkahs, I’d buy a spotting scope and train it permanently on the tallest quandong. The trees here are coming into flower again and it won’t be long before the canopy will be bustling with honeyeaters and lorikeets. Even though there’s a perfectly good quandong right next to the house, the birds prefer the other one. I’m sure if I bought that spotting scope, they’d all shift. The topknot pigeons are the worst. You’ve only got to look at them and they erupt into the sky. It’s like a pigeony Vesuvius but with slightly fewer casualties.

- o O o -

There is a dead straight line of stinging tree seedlings growing in the driveway — about one every ten metres. A catbird must have stuffed its face and then gone for a bombing run between house and road. I should make it clean up the mess.

- o O o -

On the subject of birds, the male tooth-billed bowerbird seems to be powering down for the Wet Season. He started calling on 1 October last year and was going strong over Christmas. Now, his singing is much less frequent and not so complex. He is no longer pruning the ginger leaves, so I suppose he has abandoned his arena. I wonder how many tooth-billed bowerbird chicks will hatch this year?

Fontain’s Blushwood

2012-01-11T18:00:00.000+10:00

Another tree that’s in fruit at the moment is Fontain’s blushwood (Fontainea picrosperma, family Euphorbiaceae). This species restricted to higher altitudes on the central and southern Atherton Tablelands and is the only species in the genus in Far North Queensland. (See map below.)

Blushwood flowers, 9 December 2011

The flesh is a pale watermelon pink under a light green rind. You’ll have to take my word for it, because it has dried out to an unappetising yellow in the photos here. I’m not sure what is taking the fruit — white-tailed rats or possums — but they disappear as soon as they ripen. And I'm sure they're not teleporting into a parallel universe. Well, pretty sure.

Ripening fruit, 30 December 2011

30 December 2011

Ripe fruit cut open to show seed, 8 January 2012

Characteristic single five-lobed seed

Distribution of Fontainea picrosperma
Specimen data reproduced from Australia's Virtual Herbarium
with permission of the Council of Heads of Australasian Herbaria Inc.

(Thanks to Angela from TREAT, who identified it from my description — no mean feat.)

It's my day off (again)

2012-01-10T10:00:00.000+10:00

Tuesday, as you know, is the day of rest in the Snail Shell. And everyone takes it very seriously indeed.

So I'll see you on Wednesday*.

______

*Tuesday in some time zones. Although there's nothing stopping anyone reading stuff here on different days. Totally up to you. I wouldn't dream of imposing my GMT +10 hrs on anyone else, except, perhaps, for the people in the SE corner of Australia who are on daylight saving time, so confuse the hell out of me. At this time of year, South Australia, which is to the west of Queensland, is 30 minutes ahead of us. How does that work?

Jottings from the Tropics: 9 Jan 2012

2012-01-09T18:01:00.000+10:00

I canvassed some people today (where some = 1) on the pub horse trough situation. At least three Tablelands pubs did have horse troughs, which were used extensively (for horses and probably also for town drunks), until very recently. One went flying off with Cyclone Larry in 2006 and the other two were removed after the buildings burnt down. In the latter cases, not only do the horses have to go thirsty now, but so do the locals. Neither the troughs nor the hotels have been replaced. That’s downright un-Orstrayan.

- o O o -

While I was failing to fall asleep at two o’clock this morning, my mind turned to solving one of the more difficult questions that face humanity — vampire metabolism and the optimum human-to-vampire conversion rate to ensure a continuing supply of fresh blood. In short, sustainability for the blood-sucking undead.

I’m certain this problem has been discussed many times in novels and academic journals and at learned conferences, but I wasn’t going to get out of bed at aforesaid small hour and fire up the computer to check. Of course, the more I contemplated this issue, the less sleepy I became. Anyway, my conclusion was this — unless vampires exert some sort of control over their rates of population increase and resource utilisation, they will become extinct very quickly.

Exactly how quickly, I’m not sure. I don’t know how often yer average vampire feeds or how much blood it consumes in one sitting. That some (all?) vampires are capable of going into a type of diapause, occasionally for centuries, would affect a population’s annual consumption rate. ‘Plague’ years, in which some meddling kid/reporter/high school student inadvertently reanimates an entire swarm will also have a dramatic impact on the figures. There’s a lot to consider here.

And what about the epidemiology of vampirism? Can vampires control the transmission of vampiric tendencies in the way that snakes can deliver venom-free bites? I’d hope so, because a lone vampire infecting only one other human per month will give rise to almost 4,100 vampires in a year and well over 16,000,000 in two. (W, how's my maths?) That’s assuming no staking, no beheading and no exposure to sunlight during the same period.

Which brings me to another issue — rates of...er...removal from the population. Non-vampires seem to be really rather inefficient at it, only dealing with one or two at a time. Even mass culls are not particularly effective. Blowing up an entire town might seem like a good idea, but who’s going to pay to rebuild it? And what about all that potential income lost to a region, especially a rural one? Good grief, some places are suffering enough without having half of the infrastructure wiped from the map by over-zealous vampire hunters. But the economics of vampirism is a conundrum for another sleepy night. One thing at a time.

So here’s the deal, vampires: 1) welcome to the blog; 2) I hope you weren’t offended by the previous paragraph; and 3) you have got to think this through. There are solutions. For example, members of the Überwald League of Temperance (‘Live not in vein’) have abandoned human blood and get their sustenance from other sources. But they live on the Discworld — world and mirror of worlds — where different rules apply. And let’s face it, here on Earth, vampires survive on human blood and it is unreasonable to expect significant dietary change in the short term. (And don’t give me any of that vapid so-called vegetarian malarkey. If I see any porcelain-skinned windswept-and-not-terribly-interesting types shimmering in the daylight and sipping on mouse-blood cocktails, they are going to get pinned to the wall with a star picket. Who’s with me?) The most practical solutions — according to my 2 a.m. brain — are a lower human-to-vampire conversion rate (be exclusive: Count Dracula rather than the Cullens) and nixing the near-immortality thing. Not dying is going to kill you for sure.

Anyway, those were my conclusions. I think, in the future, if I can't sleep I should just stick to counting sheep.

Still not a tamarind

2012-01-09T18:00:00.000+10:00

The plants keep fruiting.

31 December 2011

When I looked through the rainforest fruits book and found the illustration of the northern tamarind (Diploglottis diphyllostegia, Sapindaceae) (not actually a tamarind) I was sure I’d got my ID.

But it wasn’t quite right. The fruit matched the picture, but the leaves did not. Diploglottis diphyllostegia has compound leaves with 14 to 22 pairs of veins. The leaves on this plant are simple with rather fewer veins

I eventually found it — Dichapetalum papuanum (Dichapetalaceae) — a shrubby vine of FNQ and New Guinea. Dichapetalaceae is a pantropical family of 124 species in four genera. Dichapetalum is the only genus of the family in Australia. Two species occur in Far North Queensland. (See map below.)

Some species of Dichapetalum are known to produce the metabolic poison sodium fluoroacteate to deter herbivores. At least one (D. gelenoides of the Philippines) is a nickel hyperaccumulator. It looks as though these plants have declared all-out war on their predators. (I'll go out periodically to inspect the levels of herbivory to see who's winning. I'm predicting a stalemate.)

Herbarium records for the two Australian species of Dichapetalum: D. timorense (green) and D. papuanum (red). Both species also occur in New Guinea and Malesia.

Specimen data reproduced from Australia's Virtual Herbarium
with permission of the Council of Heads of Australasian Herbaria Inc.

Jottings from the Tropics: 8 Jan 2012

2012-01-08T18:02:00.000+10:00

I was in the service station when the man behind the counter nodded towards the door and said to me, ‘There’s a horse.’ This is an uncommon enough statement to hear in a servo that I turned around to have a look. I couldn’t fault him on his observation. There was, indeed, a horse. It was being tethered to the fence by a woman wearing the sort of hat that, had I taken a photo, I would have deep etched before posting to the blog.

Later in the day, when I was walking past the hotel, feeling grateful that the verandah provides 100 m of shade, I tried to remember when I last saw a horse trough or even a hitching post outside a pub. I’m sure I’ve seen them. And not just in quirky scenes in Westerns where the town drunk gets dunked. Have they been sold off? Filled with geraniums? Am I just imagining it? All three? I was out in the sun a bit today.

- o O o -

Like his parliamentary namesake, Harry Jenkins the brush turkey is no longer interested in evicting all the other turkeys. He has relaxed to point of becoming lacklustre. Harry the turkey does not hurtle in from the other side of the garden like a black-feathered Fury. He ambles. He saunters. And maybe — just maybe — at the end he’ll make a lunge at the intruder. He really can’t be bothered any more. Harry has retired.

But what I miss in entertainment, I gain in not having to sweep dust and leaves off the patio and from the kitchen doorway. Two pairs of frantically flapping turkey wings kick up a hell of a mess and the debris travels for metres. Harry still likes to let everyone knows he’s around. He stands at the door, inflates his neck and wattle and gives a call that’s a bit like a bull’s bellow but mostly like someone practising the tuba. He’s still the boss among the megapodes. But I’ve got one thing to say to him: Hey, sunshine, just remember. Come winter, I’ll be the one with the red balaclava and yellow cravat.

Grey fantail

2012-01-08T18:01:00.000+10:00

Grey fantails sport a magnificent set of whiskers. They are the Jimmy Edwardses of the bird world. The facial bristles, which are pared back feathers, are divided into four groups set around the beak. Of these, the longest are those along the lower beak. At approximately 9 mm in length, they project beyond the beak’s tip. They are just visible in this photo.

Bristles serve several functions. In diurnal birds that hawk for prey, they are thought to protect the bird’s eyes from aggressive or wayward insects, present information about the position of prey caught by the beak and provide feedback on airflow around the head. This last function is useful in giving the bird an idea of its position in relation to flying prey.

You can see the bristles and get an idea of the restless behaviour of these little birds in this video from the Internet Bird Collection.

Reference
Cunningham, S.J., Alley, M.R. & Castro, I. (2011). Facial bristle feather histology and morphology in New Zealand birds: implications for function. Journal of Morphology 272: 118–128

Fun with fungi

2012-01-08T18:00:00.000+10:00

I spotted this fungus a few metres in from the edge of the forest. Before I charged in to take a close up, I noticed that it was sharing its spot with something else.

3 January 2012

Not the lawyer vine, although they can be a real nuisance. This...another bloody stinging tree.

So, this is the best photo I've got. The fungus is large and is supported on a relatively slender stem that ends in what appears to be an attachment disc. If any of you fine fungi people have an idea of its identity, I'd love to know.

3 January 2012

On firmer ground with this one. (I'm sure I could work that into a pun if I gave it some thought.) This is — as far as I can recall — the only species of non-earthstar or -stinkhorn fungus to which I have ever been able to put a name. So when Denis at the Nature of Robertson posted on this species, Cyptotrama aspratum, from his neck of the woods, I got quite excited. Because I recognised a fungus.

5 December 2011

13 December 2011

Close up of above

13 December 2011

This map from the Australian Virtual Herbarium shows the current (registered) holdings of C. aspratum in Australian herbaria. And makes me feel totally guilty that I didn't collect a specimen and send it to Melbourne for their collection.

Specimen data reproduced from Australia's Virtual Herbarium
with permission of the Council of Heads of Australasian Herbaria Inc.

Still, one thing at a time, eh? I've only just got over the excitement of identifying a fungus.

Jottings from the Tropics: 7 Jan 2012

2012-01-07T18:01:00.000+10:00

Well, I’m glad Friday is over. What an arse of a day. The plumber turned up first thing this morning to fix the ruptured water pipe in the garden. Of course, nothing is ever simple — especially with household plumbing — and the job took quite some time. But I got a lot done, because you have to look busy when there are people around, don’t you? You can’t sit down with your feet up when someone is digging a big, muddy hole in the garden.

The positive side of having the water cut off while the plumber did all his digging and fixing and scratching his head at the reticulation system, is that it thwarted my attempts to do the washing up and floor mopping. Oh, yes, that’s what I was going to do today. No, really. Why do you scoff?

- o O o -

I’ve added The Outlaw Album, a collection of short stories by Daniel Woodrell, to the pile of books that I’m currently reading. (Pile? Stack? What’s the minimum number of volumes required for a pile and/or stack?). Set in the Ozarks, these tales of not-quite-ordinary crimes are bleak, violent and claustrophobic. Here’s the New York Times review of the collection hot off the cyberpress.

Also in the book pile/stack/whatevs is William Hague’s biography of William Wilberforce, the British MP who fought against the slave trade for more than two decades until it was abolished in 1807. (Slavery was finally outlawed in the Empire in 1834.) I bought this book ages ago, but have only just got around to reading it. As might be expected, Hague concentrates on the political aspects of Wilberforce’s life. This is not a bad thing, but it would be interesting to get a view of the great reformer as a personality as well as a politician. The two are not mutually exclusive.

Baen Books have made available free online Manly Wade Wellman’s anthology of nineteen short stories, John the Balladeer. The eponymous protagonist — also known as Silver John — roams the Appalachians in North Carolina, generally trying to mind his own business, but unavoidably running into the uncanny and weird inhabitants of traditional and modern folk tales. The earliest title in the collection, O Ugly Bird!, was published in 1951; the most recent, Farther Down the Trail, in 1988. Worth checking out, if you haven’t read the stories before. The cost, yanno, nothing. Not even your soul.

Having a whip(bird)around

2012-01-07T18:00:00.000+10:00

Eastern whipbirds (Psophodes olivaceus) are difficult to photograph, not only because they scoot erratically through the undergrowth, but also because they invariably pick up a large leaf just as the shutter clicks. I have have taken many photos of what I thought were whipbirds, only to find that they are, in fact, of blurry leaves with feet sticking out from underneath them.

John Gould (1865: 314) described the eastern whipbird as shy and reclusive. As you can see from the photos below, he was spot on.

"...although its full notes — ending sharply like the crack of a whip — indicates its presence, it rarely exposes itself to view, but generally keeps in the midst of the densest foliage and among the thickest climbing plants, frequenting those that have intertwined themselves with the branches of the tallest shrubs, and those that form impenetrable masses near the ground, and through which it threads itself with utmost care. It is extremely animated and upright in all its actions."

I imagine that 'animated and upright' is a another way of saying 'frenetic'.

Peeka-

-boo!

The male bird's call is one of the most distinctive sounds of the rainforest. Composed of two elements — the first a drawn out whistle, the second a loud whipcrack — it comes in nine different versions. In seven of those the whipcrack is upwardly inflected; in the other two it trends down.

It forms the opening part of a duet between male and female birds. The female follows immediately with a two note response, her call so soon after the whipcrack that it sounds as though it has been uttered by the same bird.

Duet of male and female eastern whipbirds. (From Rogers, 2005)

The female's song also varies and her response depends on the male's lead in. In addition, females produce a call that is similar in structure to the male's whipcrack, but differs slightly in pitch and length.

Range of calls given by female eastern whipbirds.
A - C are responses to male calls, Song II is a solo call.
(From Rogers, 2005)

When a potential rival enters a male whipbird's territory, the territory-holder matches his song type. Female whipbirds do the same when other females intrude, often matching the song not only in type but also in timing.The calls overlap exactly. It is thought that territory-holding females use their calls to reinforce pair bonds when a lone, potentially rival, females encroaches, whereas males are a little more relaxed about it.

Whipbirds are monogamous, forming stable pair bonds in territories that are held from year to year and are not yielded readily. Male whipbirds contribute substantially to raising nestlings. They also occur in lower numbers than the females. Consequently, the more commonly observed male – male rivalry over females is reversed and females compete for males — although the competition is remarkably laid-back considering how excitable whipbirds are in most other aspects of their lifestyle.

References
Gould, J. (1865) Handbook of the Birds of Australia. Vol. 1. London: John Gould. 363 pp.

Rogers, A.C. (2005). Male and female song structure and singing behaviour in the duetting eastern whipbird, Psophodes olivaceus. Australian Journal of Zoology 53(3): 157 – 166.

Rogers, A.C., Mulder, R.A. & Langmore, N.E. (2006). Duet duels: sex differences in song matching in duetting eastern whipbirds. Animal Behaviour 72: 53 – 61.

Rogers, A.C., Langmore, N.E. & Mulder, R.A. (2007). Function of pair duets in the eastern whipbird: cooperative defense or sexual conflict? Behavioral Ecology 18(1): 182 – 188.

Music for writing

2012-01-06T20:00:00.000+10:00

My writing soundtrack for this evening.

The Audreys, Oh Honey.

The Waifs, SunDirtWater.

National Geographic photo contest winners

2012-01-06T18:30:00.000+10:00

This will gladden your heart — the winning pics from the 2011 National Geographic Photo Contest. Please look at them after you've looked at the photos here. Don't make me give you the Men in Black amnesia flashlight treatment.

Dragonfly by Shikhei Goh
Grand prize winner

Jottings from the Tropics: 6 Jan 2012

2012-01-06T18:00:00.000+10:00

I know. I know. You shouldn’t blog in a bad mood, but honestly, I’ve been in a bad mood all day. What am I supposed to do?

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am sweet natured and gentle and almost impossible to upset. They’d tell you that because ~~they know what would happen if they didn’t~~ it’s true. But today has been One of Those Days and it doesn’t show any indications of getting better. Worse, yes. Better, not a freakin’ chance.

Anyway, I am going to sit here for a while with a cup of tea and a pile of books and I am going to drink the tea and read the books and listen to the afternoon chorus of eastern whipbirds, brown gerygones and king parrots* and if anyone — anyone — interrupts, I am going to call in an airstrike.

Self-portrait (Or a stinging tree. Hard to tell the difference at the moment.)

____________

* Those links have MP3 files of the birds' calls. Scroll down the right-hand column to Calls**.
** You can probably work that out.

Tablelands on Friday: Eacham Park, Malanda

2012-01-06T17:00:00.000+10:00

Not everyone has the opportunity to visit this part of the world, so I thought I would spend Fridays sharing it with you. I'm kicking off with a few photos of Eacham Memorial Park in Malanda. The park is a lovely spot for lunch, but what makes it for me are the buildings around it.

View Larger Map

Memorial gates

The Majestic Theatre

The Majestic is the oldest continually operating picture theatre in Australia. It shows the latest movies, saving Tablelanders a bloody long trip down to Cairns. Malanda Theatre Company regularly performs musicals, comedies and musical comedies here. Their Sweeney Todd was a triumph!

Local car mechanic

Produce store and opp shop

Malanda Post Office

'Looking Ahead': one of nine mosaics on the Malanda Art Trail

The Malanda Art Trail includes a series of mosaics depicting life in and around Malanda. 'Looking Ahead' illustrates the work done by community groups, such as TREAT (Trees for the Evelyn and Atherton Tablelands), in revegetating cleared land, restoring riparian strips and planting wildlife corridors between forest fragments. I'll take you on the Trail in next Friday's post. In the meantime, you can read more about the mosaics here (PDF).

Mosaic detail: Plants of the rainforest

Mosaic detail: Smoko for the workers

Mosaic detail: Planting and mulching

Mosaic detail: Portaloo

Malanda's CBD: What more do you need?

The view from the Memorial Gates looking down English Street, half of Malanda's CBD. The town's population (if you include all the farms) is about 1,000 people, so that pub is pretty much the right size. Oh, yeah, it goes around the corner. A long way around the corner.

Fire season

2012-01-05T19:05:00.001+10:00

It's that time of year. Here are the latest bushfire hotspots detected by NASA's earth observation satellites Terra and Aqua. Data from these satellites are analysed by Geoscience Australia and made available through Sentinel.

But Australia is not the only tinderbox right now. Here is NASA's map showing the distribution of fires detected by the satellites over a 10-day period at the end of December. (Click image to embiggen or see the original here.)

Jottings from the Tropics: 5 Jan 2012

2012-01-05T16:50:00.003+10:00

And they say that Melbourne weather is unpredictable*. Yesterday, the top temperature here was 20C and we were all dragging out the winter woollies from storage, whereas today it is 29C and we’re buying tubs of ice cream. (Where we = me.)

As I eat this ice cream, a pademelon is watching me with an expression somewhere between envy and disgust. Probably. They do not have much of a range. It is difficult to tell between fury, bemusement and hearty appreciation of a limerick with a good punchline.
____________

*Although the Bureau of Meteorology seems to do okay.

- o O o -

Mick asked about the sounds of the rainforest at night. Between scrubfowl and possums, it can become quite lively, but most of the time it is ~~just like one of those New Age CDs~~ relaxing.

The first wave of cicadas starts not long after dusk. (Dusk is measured in microseconds at this latitude.) The golden emperor (Anapsaltoda pulchra) chorus is followed immediately by the northern greengrocers (Cyclochila virens). (A few golden emperors keep singing through the racket. The episodic change in pitch cuts through the noise. But eventually they give up.)

By this time it is dark and most of the day birds have stopped calling. A few kookaburras across the river get in the last word to claim their territory. Once they have said their bit, the avian night watch prepares for business.

Depending on factors that I have yet to fathom, I might hear any combination of the three owl species: boobook, barking and lesser sooty. Boobooks remain deep in the forest; barking owls come to the edge; but only lesser sooty owls emerge from the cover of the trees and take advantage of the small clearing that passes as a ~~weed trap~~ garden. They are not shy and will call from within metres of the house. Sometimes, they perch on the ladder or guttering and swoop down on cicadas attracted by the living room light.

When the owls are not hissing, shrieking, barking or — on rare occasions —hooting, it is peaceful, although never silent. The darkness has a constant soundtrack of crickets and katydids, falling leaves and pademelons and bandicoots rustling through the forest. On some nights, tree kangaroos hop past the house, often stopping to communicate with each other through snuffling coughs. Or possibly that’s the ghost of a lost swaggie. I’m not sure.

If it is dry and still, I can hear bush stone-curlews across the river and the lowing of the dairy herd, whose paddock they share. If it’s raining, I can’t hear a bleedin’ thing.

I wouldn't change it for the world.

Evolutionary bouillabaisse: Hybrid sharks (but no laser beams)

2012-01-05T15:00:00.000+10:00

To find a wild hybrid animal is unusual. To find clear evidence of F1 and backcrossed (B+) hybrid sharks in nature is extraordinary. To find 57 hybrids along 2,000 km of coastline is unprecedented.

Morgan et al., 2011

Who doesn’t love a good shark story? And the news of the first ever record of hybrid sharks ticks all the boxes. Sharks! In Australia! That place where everything is out to kill you! And they’re doing weird things! With their claspers! The media have been going for the climate change angle, because, well, everything that isn’t about life on Mars is a climate change story. But they’ve thrown in a bit of ‘OMG we’re doomed, hybrid sex-crazed super-sharks are ravaging our coastlines’ for colour*. But what’s been lost in most of the news pieces is the original reason for the research — management of shark fisheries.

The hybrids are the result of interbreeding between two closely related species of blacktip sharks (Carcharhinus). The Australian blacktip (Carcharhinus tilstoni) occurs in the tropical waters of northern Australia. The common blacktip (C. limbatus) has a much wider range in tropical and subtropical waters worldwide. Both species are important to the inshore shark fisheries in northern and eastern Australia. In order to manage these fisheries, it is imperative to understand population dynamics of the target species.

It can be difficult to distinguish between these two on morphology alone, so anatomical characters (such as size and pre-caudal vertebrae count) are combined with DNA analysis for a reliable identification. In this case, the initial analysis looked at mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA), which is maternally inherited.

During sampling from fisheries catch along the east coast, the research team found that 42 sharks returned odd results — the anatomical and DNA data contradicted each other. The sharks looked like one species, but had the mtDNA of the other. After ruling out other reasons for the mismatches, the team decided to explore the possibility that the two species were interbreeding.

They collected more samples and analysed both mtDNA (maternally inherited) and nuclear DNA (inherited from both parents). This technique allowed them to identify the species of both parents. They found 17 F1 (first cross or first filial) hybrids along the coast from Far North Queensland to northern New South Wales. In addition, they found a further 40 sharks that appeared to be the progeny of hybrids breeding together or of hybrids that had back-crossed (bred) with one of the parent species. Blacktip sharks had taken swinging to a whole new level.

This discovery throws up some juicy evolutionary questions. Are the hybrids as fit (in an evolutionary sense) as the parent species? That is, are they as successful in producing offspring? And do those offspring survive to reproduce in the same numbers as those of pure-bred sharks? If so, why isn’t everything a hybrid? What are the long-term impacts of hybridisation in warming waters? Does a hybrid have an advantage over pure-bred C. limbatus in tropical waters or pure-bred C. tilstoni in temperate waters? Did past hybridisation between other species lead to the high diversity of Carcharhinus we see today? The list goes on.

But this discovery also has implications for managing the blacktip fisheries. The research team identified several issues that need further investigation. Perhaps the most pressing of these is the possibility of inadvertent overharvesting. If hybrids are not as prolific in producing young as their parent species, then populations with a high proportion of hybrids could be at risk. They might not reproduce fast enough to survive commercial exploitation at the current rate. But the reverse is also true. If the hybrids are fitter, this could be good news for the industry. Maintaining both blacktip shark populations and shark fisheries requires a reassessment of stock structure, taking the hybrids into consideration.

The focus now is on mapping the geographical range of hybrids along the northern Australian coast; estimating the frequency of interbreeding; and investigating their fitness. And it might be necessary to include a third closely related blacktip species, the graceful shark (C. amblyrhynchoides), which was not studied in the initial work. Although it is not a major component of the shark fisheries, C. amblyrhynchoides coexists with the other two species along the northern coast. And who knows what it gets up to? It’s a shark! In Australia! It’s bound to do weird things with its claspers.

Reference

Morgan, J.A.T. et al. (2011). Detection of interspecies hybridisation in Chondrichthyes: hybrids and hybrid offspring between Australian (Carcharhinus tilstoni) and common (C. limbatus) blacktip shark found in an Australian fishery. Conservation Genetics DOI: 10.1007/s10592-011-0298-6

Abstract available here.

____________

*Might not accurately reflect the nature of most news stories.

Jottings from the Tropics: 4 Jan 2012

2012-01-04T15:01:00.000+10:00

Town has reopened after the extended break. The main street was as busy as I’ve ever seen it, which is to say not very. This suits me fine. It also makes defence easier in a zombie apocalypse. I’m always thinking ahead.

- o O o -

I picked up my mail from the post office. Hidden among the bills was my 2012 fridge magnet calendar from our federal member, Bob Katter. This year’s effort is a definite improvement on last year’s, which featured Mr Katter’s signature but no sign of the Man in the Hat. As you can see, our illustrious member’s beaming fizzog and trademark headgear are back. As is a demonstration of one of Katter’s Australia Party’s platforms — the freedom to boil a billy wherever you damned well please. And as badly as you like.

I am deeply disappointed that neither the photo of Mr Katter nor of our state member, Shane Knuth, has the hat deep etched. I have been a fan of deep etched hats ever since a friend who worked on a rural newspaper pointed out that if the main front page photo was of a man in an Akubra — especially a man in an Akubra accompanied by a kelpie or a cattle dog — the headgear would be deep etched. It’s tradition, you see. Like lukewarm billy tea.

- o O o -

From 16 January, Atherton Library will be hosting From Ship to Shore, a travelling exhibition from the State Library of Queensland. The display features notebooks and journals from the SLQ's archives.

Four of the diaries describe 19th Century immigration, another was written in the 1890s on board a South Sea Islander labour recruitment ship for Queensland’s sugar industry, and one is from a post-World War II immigration voyage.

I've made a note about it in my diary. I should also probably mark it on the Katter 'n' Knuth fridge calendars. I will report on the exhibition in a couple of weeks.

Atlas of Living Australia: Where the woozle wasn't (and was)

2012-01-04T15:00:00.000+10:00

I’ve been playing around with the Atlas of Living Australia to explore how useful it might be in undertaking biogeographic studies from the comfort of my frayed but functional ergonomic chair. The ALA is an interactive online database of Australia’s flora and fauna. Its data comes from a variety of sources, mostly museum and herbarium collections (supported by specimens), but also observations submitted by the public (sometimes supported by photographs). Because the usefulness of the Atlas depends on the comprehensiveness and accuracy of its data, some of the records are bound to be dodgy. The ALA is working on improving the quality of harvested data, although there isn’t a lot that can be done at that end about misidentifications. So, with that caveat, I had a wander through the database. Why not wander through it with me and see what you think.

I picked Lumholtz’s tree kangaroo (Dendrolagus lumholtzi) as a candidate and had a look at what the Atlas has to offer on this species.

Searching on the name gives some basic information on the taxon, including an illustration.

Overview provides a map of the distribution based on records. Depending on your requirements, this might be sufficient. If not, you can examine the records as a list or plotted on an interactive map. Overview also offers information about conservation status (symbols on right).

You can also get a full list of taxa with the native ones all dressed up for Australia Day.

The source of (some of) the records gives a rough indication of their reliability.

And their distribution through time would probably be useful for investigating migratory or seasonal species if there were enough data.

The datasets come with a number of filters by which you could sift data (continued over two images).

I sifted the Dendrolagus lumholtzi records by precision of locality — between 1 and 5 km. The map looked mostly reasonable, although there were a handful of potentially dodgy records.

Tarzali is a known spot for tree roos, so I checked out that record.

The data came from CSIRO's Australian National Wildlife Collection and had a registration number attached to it. According to the details on the pop up, the specimen came from Hogan's Road. Entirely plausible.

Somewhat less plausible is this record from west of Mareeba. I've switched to the satellite view to give you an idea of the country out that way. Not typical tree roo habitat.

When I looked at the details, it was obvious that the coordinates are wrong. This specimen came from woodland SW of Atherton.

A startling cluster of records — seven tree roos apparently from what's not quite the middle of nowhere, but somewhere near it. These data must be viewed as being Probably Not All That Reliable. Still, if I really were doing a study of tree roos, I'd shoot an email down to the SAM with rego numbers and find out the story. Dodgy coordinates? Fossil material? Escapees from a travelling marsupial circus?

It is also possible to sift out type material. This is the holotype for Dendrolagus lumholtzi. So, much fun to be had with a few clicks of the mouse.

You can have even more fun by looking up the records for your immediate vicinity. When I checked my address on the database, I was surprised to find only two species of frog recorded within 5 km. Obviously an underestimate, because I can hear three species calling as I type this, and I know there are several others around. So I know what I have to do — upload the data.

I haven't fully explored the Atlas. In fact, I haven't even scratched the surface. It even allows you to map distributions in relation to environmental variables such as climate factors and vegetation. Hours of entertainment.

I have yet to decide whether it will be sufficient for some office chair research (more businesslike than armchair research), but it does have a lot of potential. And did I mention the hours of entertainment?

It's my day off

2012-01-03T14:37:00.000+10:00

So I'm going to sit around, reading

and obsessing about what I should be doing and then probably starting to do it, but giving up because I don't actually have enough time to get it done because I've been sitting around, reading instead of

Back tomorrow.

Jottings from the Tropics: 2 Jan 2012

2012-01-02T18:01:00.000+10:00

According to the Bureau of Meteorology’s forecast, it will be mostly dry for the next few days with nothing even vaguely monsoonal in the vicinity. This time last year we had just been soaked by Cyclone Tasha, which heralded a very wet start to 2011, so I am not at all dismayed that it isn’t pi...pelting down here. Around here, we’ll take whatever sunshine we can get.

- o O o -

Despite the lack of precipitation, I have pulled the first books off the shelves of my Wet Season library. (They’re metaphorical shelves. The library is actually a plastic tote box, formerly used for field gear and specimens.) Last year, I worked my way through stacks of Graham Greene, Thea Astley and Barbara Kingsolver titles. This year I am concentrating on Umberto Eco, Amitav Ghosh and a selection of U.S. authors who write what Daniel Woodrell describes as ‘country noir’. I’ll see how it goes. I am currently half way through Eco’s Foucault’s Pendulum and feel I should be taking notes.

- o O o -

I am not confining myself to those authors, of course. I have just finished reading James Lee Burke’s latest — Feast Day for Fools. I love JLB. Love him to bits. I’ve read every one of his novels and short stories and enjoyed them all. But I did not get much entertainment out of this one. The central character, who seems to me to be too old to go around belting people with that much vigour, doesn’t drive the story. Instead, the narrative bounces off the multiple antagonists like a pinball. There are twists and dazzling prose and a feel of Cormac McCarthy about this, which, in itself is no bad thing. But there is no emotional core to the tale, just a lot of lost and violent characters who remain lost and violent throughout. And, to be honest, I can’t even remember whether the maddest and baddest of the mad, bad guys was killed in the end. This is not a good thing.

But my reading of it might differ from someone else’s. That’s the wonderful thing about fiction — the story is constructed between writer and reader. The story is different for everyone.

- o O o -

I am currently engrossed in China Miéville’s Kraken. An urban fantasy set in London, it revolves around a crime that draws the attention of the Met’s crack Fundamentalist and Sect-related Crime Unit. Or, as the author summarises it, “It’s a dark comedy about a squid-worshipping cult and the end of the world.” The protagonist is a mollusc curator from the Natural History Museum. When the giant squid is stolen from the Darwin Centre, this fictional curator immediately lays the blame on Steve O’Shea from Te Papa. And, by crikey, so would I.

- o O o -

The cyclone pantry is now stocked. Not only do I have enough supplies to last through the aftermath of another Yasi, but also sufficient to survive a zombie apocalypse. That is, as long as the two events do not occur consecutively. And if they do, I hope the zombie thing comes first, because then the cyclone will wipe them out. As you can see, I’ve thought this through. Although I have food, batteries, water containers, books etc, I have yet to sharpen the shovels. I do have a collection of LPs, which means I can adopt the Shaun of the Dead delaying strategy if need be. There are no Prince albums, so I should be all right.

The above applies only to a human zombie apocalypse. If the local road kill is reanimated, I will be safe. It won’t be me they come after.

Figs are what they used to be

2012-01-02T18:00:00.000+10:00

Some time ago — I'm not sure when because I don't seem to have written a post about it — an over-ambitious strangler fig got top-heavy and snapped the tree on which it was growing. The tree was entirely rotten, so when host and fig hit the ground, the host crumbled leaving a cage of fig roots and a bit of a mess on the rainforest floor. Strangler figs, being flexible plants, can tolerate a lot of rearrangements in their living conditions, although it can take time to adjust. This one seems to have coped with eviction. After a period of quiescence it is back in business. In about fifteen years, when the strangler roots have thickened up, someone is going to have a five star cubby house.

Strangler fig seeds (Ficus destruens and others) germinate in the canopy. They get there via bird gut, which is a bit like travelling Qantas these days. An epiphyte during its early life, the strangler fig sends down roots that wrap around the host tree. Eventually, the roots completely envelop the host.

Strangler figs are not fussy. They are equally happy with rocks, gutters and Angkor Wat...Just be careful where you string your hammock in a rainforest.

Several fig trees at my place have got as far as becoming buttressed trees.

They are quite scenic, but are nothing compared to the Curtain Fig near Yungaburra and the Cathedral Fig at Danbulla. These are large and impressive trees, despite the images at the links, which just can't capture the sheer volume of figginess. Don't take it from me, go and look for yourselves.

Jottings from the Tropics: 1 Jan 2012

2012-01-01T17:03:00.000+10:00

And therewas I thinking that I would go to sleep early on New Year’s Eve. I hadn’tconsidered the wildlife.

First, afly. A fly. A. Freakin’. Fly! It was too high up on the wall to swat, so I spentquite some time trying to lure it out of the bedroom by leaving on lights inother parts of the house. When that failed, I gave up. Well, you know what theysay — try once, then give it away as a bad job.

And thenthe possums. Up and down the damned ladder (which is bolted to the back wall)and all over the roof. (If you’ve never heard a possum walk across a tin roof,it sounds exactly like a person. Only much heavier.) Now, I can normally sleepthrough the racket made my perambulating possums, but last night they sounded asif they were nose-diving into it. Quite frankly, when I checked the roof thismorning, I expected to find a parachutist spread-eagled on it. (I didn’t, incase you were wondering.)

If they dothe same tonight, there will be words. Words!

Tropical rockmaster

2012-01-01T16:20:00.000+10:00

At this time of year, rainforest clearings are swarming with tropical rockmaster damselflies (Diphlebia euphoeoides). This is a female and, although she is by no means drab, she fades a little next to the male in all his pale blue glory. (See the previous post for his portrait.)

These lively damselflies occur along streams and rivers in NE Queensland and New Guinea. Of the five species in the genus, this is the only one to extend beyond eastern Australia.

The tropical rockmaster can be distinguished from the very similar sapphire rockmaster (D. coerulescens), which it partially overlaps in distribution, by the extent of the blue markings on terga (abdominal segements) 4 – 6 in the male. These markings are very small in the tropical rockmaster, so the abdomen appears almost wholly black between the saddle on the first few terga and the half-bands towards the end. The sapphire rockmaster is also a deeper blue than its tropical relative, as both its common and Latin names suggest.

Lest you think I am displaying an awesome knowledge of damsel- and dragonflies, I only know this because I have open in front of me a much used and loved copy of The Complete Field Guide to Dragonflies of Australia by Günter Theischinger and John Hawking. It is odonatelicious.

________

Thanks to Duncan at Ben Cruachan, who had the same idea about this identity of this damselfly. I love this whole series of tubes known as the internet.

Time flies...

2012-01-01T00:01:00.000+10:00

And so does...er...

Happy New Year!

Jottings from the Tropics: 31 Dec 2011

2011-12-31T11:00:00.000+10:00

Overnightrain has stirred up the frogs. Although the striped marsh frogs (Limnodynastes peroni)have been calling for weeks, other species are slower to respond. Now thegreen-eyed tree frogs (Litoria serrata) have joined in. Green-eyes werepreviously known as Litoria genimaculata — or Litoria genimac to those of uswho are simultaneously pedantic enough to use Latin names yet too lazy to saythem in full — but that title is now reserved for a New Guinea species. Litoriaserrata does not take truncation well, but the name is still only sevensyllables, so it comes out even in the end.

It is notyet wet enough for the orange-thighed tree frog (Litoria xanthomera), whichbreeds in pools in and adjacent to the rainforest. Litoria xanthomera was splitfrom the more southerly red-eyed tree frog (Litoria chloris) in 1986. And it was asad day for the linguistically idle when that happened.

- o O o -

There arenow two choirs of cicadas. The golden emperors (Anapsaltoda pulchra) kick offin the late afternoon with their intricate and melodic songs. Although they donot appear to be coordinated beyond starting and stopping at roughly the sametime, the sound is not at all like my old school orchestra. In fact, it is quite pleasant. Especially when contrasted with the northerngreengrocers (Cyclochila virens) that follow at dusk. These jolly loud green giants make up in volumewhat they lack in complexity. I like to think of their chorus as thegreengrocers’ cacophony.

- o O o -

Red-leggedpademelons are not talkative mammals. They have a small repertoire of vocalisations,including hisses, clicks and coughs. Joeys also make contact with their motherswith a short ‘sneeze’. It is quite unlike any other sound and carries somedistance through the forest.

OnWednesday morning, I heard Crinkle Cut’s joey calling for her mum. Althoughjoeys spend a lot of time out of sight of their mothers —they are ‘parked’ inthe forest while the adult forages — they often remain within hearing distance.That morning, Crinkle Cut’s joey could not contact her mother and was getting agitated.

Shecontinued to call throughout the day and then into the night, doing circuits ofthe rainforest edge. The little joey would hop for a few metres, call and waitfor her mum to come. This continued for more than twelve hours. But her motherdid not come and she finally went to sleep in the small hours.

The joey continuesto call, but with decreasing frequency. She comes out at night and in the latemorning to feed in the spots where she foraged with her mother. Rain had madethe grass grow and knocked down leaves from the trees, so food is not in short supply.

I last sawCrinkle Cut on Tuesday. As she had been daily visitor to the house for two and a half years — occasionally trying to raid the kitchen bin — I can only thinkthat she is now dead. Perhaps killed by a python, which is not unknown, butmore likely by human agency, which is the more common fate of wild animals here.

I am notfond of people who nail up signs proclaiming their love for the environment andthen drive recklessly and let their dogs run free in the rainforest. On thewhole, I think I prefer the pademelons.

Crinkle Cut and Pip in mid-December

Spotting catbirds

2011-12-31T10:55:00.000+10:00

Although thespotted catbird is a conspicuous part of the Wet Tropics avifauna, the specieswas not described from Australia. Alfred Russel Wallace collected specimens ofthese and many other species of birds, insects and land snails on the AruIslands in the Arafura Sea and sent them to British Museum. (Wallace’s work onthe Aru Islands led to his first systematic study of biogeography.)

OrnithologistGeorge Gray named the species Ptilonorhynchus melanotis, acknowledging arelationship with the satin bowerbird (P. violaceus). It was subsequentlyshifted to Ailuroedus alongside the southern green catbird (A. crassirostris).The first Australian spotted catbird was not collected for seventeen yearsafter Wallace’s expedition to the Aru Islands, when Kendall Broadbent sent specimensfrom Rockingham Bay to the Australian Museum. Edward Ramsay described theQueensland form as a new species, Aeluroedus maculosus. Ramsay’s species is nowconsidered one of two Australian subspecies of Ailuroedus melanotis. (The otheris A. melanotis joanae from eastern Cape York Peninsula.)

Not thatthis matters one jot to the spotted catbirds. The ones in my garden spend theirdays looking for food and engaging in musical battles over territories. (I usethe term ‘musical’ very loosely.) They are almost certainly sitting on eggs, ifnot already feeding nestlings. I suspect the latter because they have resumedtheir mugging activities on the pademelons. They are yet to take on the brushturkeys, but that will happen once the nestlings grow big enough. It isdefinitely a jungle out there.

References

Gray, G.R.(1858) A list of the birds, with descriptions of new species, obtained by MrAlfred R. Wallace in the Aru and Ke Islands. Proceedings of the ZoologicalSociety of London 1858: 169 – 198.

Ramsay,E.P. (1874). Descriptions of five new species of birds from Queensland, and ofthe egg of Chlamydodera maculata. Proceedings of the Zoological Society ofLondon 1874: 601 – 605.

Jottings from the Tropics: 30 Dec 2011

2011-12-30T18:12:00.000+10:00

The monsoonlow formerly known as Tropical Cyclone Grant has cleared Cape York Peninsulaand is now over the Coral Sea. There is a vague possibility that the systemwill reintensify during the weekend, but whatever it does, it will continue totrack east and become Somebody Else’s Problem.

Given thefrequency with which cyclones form in Australian waters, the meteorologists at thecyclone centre must have an interesting time coming up with names. Doubly sofor those who are new parents. The next name on the list is Heidi. After that,Iggy. Will we get as far as Tropical Cyclone Narelle this season?

- o O o -

Brisksouth-easterlies are knocking down branches. The blue quandongs areparticularly susceptible. They shed limbs under such mild conditions that it issurprising they manage to spread out at all. One flatulent possum could take out half the canopy.

A branchdropped near me during my morning stroll down the driveway. When I picked itup, I noticed that yet another stinging tree had sprouted through the leaflitter and would have to be removed. I am designing a stinging tree extractormodelled on the army bomb disposal robot.

- o O o -

Beforereturning to the garden, I donned a safety helmet. It is bright yellow — safetyyellow — to make it easier for ambulance officers to find me under apile of quandong branches dislodged by a dyspeptic ringtail.

Since I’vebeen wearing this helmet, the brush turkeys have treating me with what I canonly describe as diffidence. I believe the expanse of yellowness — of a similarshade to the male turkey’s wattle — has them cowed. When the weather getscooler, I wil test this hypothesis by wearing a red balaclava and a yellowcravat and recording the outcome.

Flowering gingerly

2011-12-30T01:56:00.000+10:00

When I go to Cairns — which is hardly ever, because it is hot and full of people — I usually visit the Flecker Botanical Gardens. Although quite small, the Gardens have some excellent displays, including an extensive collection of gingers and heliconias.

If I had space to grow exotics, I'd start a similar collection. Until that time, I'm happy to enjoy the fans of native gingers along the forest edge.

Booroogum or pleated ginger (Alpinia arctiflora) is flowering at the moment. It is a favourite of the tooth-billed bowerbird, who snips off the ripple-edged leaves to decorate his arena just at the back of the house. [Note: Plant misidentified as A. caerulea in that post.] This bird is particular about not only the species used in his display, but also the quality of the leaves. He harvests them from a small number of individual plants, considering them carefully before taking them away.

I'm not sure if the booroogum is commonly cultivated, but it would be a splendid plant for a moist and shady spot. Preferably one free of leaf-snipping bowerbirds. The flowers are short-lived, especially when battered by rain, but are splendid while they last.

Only a few flowers open at a time

At the edge of the forest

Surviving competitors

Surviving the rain

Pleated or rippled leaves

Distribution of Alpinia arctiflora

Jottings from the tropics

2011-12-29T17:41:00.000+10:00

The orange-footed scrubfowl have restarted their mound-building activity next to the driveway. When I went past yesterday, they had excavated a huge crater in the middle. I am going to call it Paricutin.

- o O o -

As I type this, one of the brush turkeys is at the window. She is alternately tapping on the glass and pecking listlessly at the seed heads on the sedges. I think she is trying to tell me something.

- o O o -

A stinging tree has germinated in the driveway. If the pademelons don’t clean it up, I will have to do some gardening. But at the moment, it might be the only thing between me and the festive season proselytisers.

- o O o -

You might remember Little Poss, the young coppery brushtail possum who turned up at my place a couple of months after Cyclone Yasi. Little Poss’s highly individual behaviour —adopting a diurnal lifestyle and terrorising the other forest wildlife — made him an instant hit with me. I’d thought at first that he might have lost his mum, but after observing him in action for a few weeks, I decided he’d probably been turfed out of home for delinquent behaviour.

He had been a regular visitor for some time. At first, he’d only appear during the day, but later he returned to a more natural nocturnal pattern. He would clamber up the hosepipe onto the tap and from there scramble onto the laundry trough. It is only a short stretch to reach the flyscreen on the kitchen window. In the evening, while I was making dinner, he’d cling to the netting and watch me cook. A sort of Master Chef for marsupials.

One of Little Poss’s most endearing characteristics was his unparalleled ability to fall off things. Each evening, he would walk along the kitchen window sill, get to the end and try to turn around. Now, the sill is about 80mm wide, which is enough to accommodate a mid-sized arboreal mammal, but it slopes downward. And each evening, I’d be treated to the sight of a mid-sized arboreal mammal scrabbling frantically at the glass followed by a pair of big bug eyes disappearing from view.

He did not learn, so I ended up resting a broom, brush end up, against the sill, to give him an alternative way of getting down. Little Poss soon adopted it. (It is painted with stains from his scent-marking activity.) I had to move the broom away from the kitchen door when I caught him trying to break in. He was holding onto the broomstick with his hind feet and tail and working the door handle with his paws. Did I mention his delinquent behaviour?

Anyway, one night, Little Poss stopped visiting. I saw him occasionally, so I knew he was still around and not inside a python. He hadn’t been here for months and then he turned up three times. And immediately went back to his old antics.The first time, he walked along the sill and past the broom. Encountering a dead end, he tried to turn around. You can work out what happened. Claws on glass. Big bug eyes. Vanishing possum. When I went to have a look, I found him dangling by his tail from the broom head, his hind feet pressed against the wall and his face wearing an expression that very clearly said, ‘Yes, I meant to do this’. If he could have folded his arms, he would have. Little Poss eventually managed to twist far enough to grab hold of the broomstick and climb down.

On the second visit, he struck out confidently along the sill and then noticed the broom was no longer there. (I’d been sweeping bandicoot poo from the carport.) I told him to wait and I’d get it for him. Probably not the most helpful thing I could do, him not being fluent in English. He tried anyway. Claws on glass...

But the third time, even though the broom was in place, he actually managed to get back safely. By Jove, I think he’s got it.

Not a tamarind

2011-12-28T12:58:00.000+10:00

In the previous post, I made a blanket statement about 'tamarinds'. Well, I will have to take a step back from that because at least one thing fruiting at the moment is neither a real Fabaceae tamarind nor an ersatz Sapindaceae tamarind. It belongs to Meliaceae, which includes white cedar (Melia azederach) (abundant along the forest edge), red cedar (Toona ciliata) (formerly abundant, now logged out in many areas) and other things that aren't really ced...oh, let's not go down that path again.

This small tree is the brown ripples (Aglaia australiensis). It has a restricted distribution, occurring from the Tully region north to the Mulgrave River. (See the map below for pooled specimen data from Australian herbaria.) Even though it has such a limited range, it is reasonably common around here. The one I've photographed for this post is at the edge of my drive way. [Note added in surprise: This species was only described in 1992.]

Flower buds in early October

At the end of the Dry, the flower buds appeared minty green among the chocolate brown stems. They looked almost good enough to eat.

But I resisted.

Flowers in late October.

Three weeks later, the flowers had opened as far as they ever would. (When I first saw them, I thought they were berries.) Presumably, insects are the chief pollinators of this species.These are not showy flowers.

Fruit in December

Brown ripples is a prolific fruiter with a good flower to fruit ratio. (And you can tell where the tree gets its common name. Yeah, we're big on plain labelling here. It was probably somebody's second choice after tamarind.)

The insects are fond of this species at all stages of its life cycle. If it's not aphids and lerps, it's ants and wasps

I was trying to make this new growth look like a hand reaching out, Kuato style. But it's much too plant-looking for that. (Oh, and let me I apologise for that entirely gratuitous Total Recall reference.)

Almost as soon as they unfurl, the large, glossy, dark green compound leaves are colonised by lichen and moss. The stem seems to be wrapped in velvet. This is a tree that everything loves. I'm not big on horticulture, but I think this would make a nice specimen tree in the right garden — especially in an area where it wouldn't get covered in mini-epiphytes the moment it poked out its cotyledons. I've collected some pods and will see how it goes in a pot. At least I won't have to worry about watering it.

By the way, I'm glad I invested in the Coopers' encyclopaedic Fruits of the Australian Tropical Rainforest. It costs a small fortune, but it is invaluable to a botanical novice like me. One day I will be familiar enough with the planty stuff to be able to use the key, but until then I am more than happy to...er...leaf through the 560-plus pages of illustrations to identify the fruit. You can see Bill Cooper's illustration of the brown ripple (and read more about the plant) here.

A tamarind by any other name...

2011-12-25T01:14:00.000+10:00

It seems that everything in fruit at the moment is a) a member of the Sapindaceae family and b) called a tamarind. That the true tamarind (Tamarindus indica) belongs to Fabaceae and does not occur in this rainforest is neither here nor there.

Anyway, the pink tamarind (Toechima erythrocarpum) and Topaz tamarind (Synima macrophylla) are both producing fruit as if it's going out of style and their bright colours are giving a festive air to the rainforest.

Pink tamarind (Toechima erythrocarpum)

Pink tamarind fruits normally open on the tree, shedding their seeds from the canopy. But they are often given some 'assistance' in doing this. (Not mentioning any names, but I'm looking at you, king parrots. And those white-tailed rats lurking at the back. Don't think I haven't seen you as well.)

The fruit splits to release three polished seeds, each wearing a jaunty yellow aril. It doesn't look quite as mouth-watering as the aril on a lychee, but the birds seem to like it just fine.

The brush turkeys usually pick them up the moment they fall. I managed to photograph this seed only because it dropped right in front of me and the turkeys weren't game enough to take it from me. Not this time.

The other tamarind-not-tamarind is the Topaz tamarind (Synima macrophylla), which is named after the hamlet nestled in Mt Bartle Frere's rainy and verdant embrace. I photographed this tree over a couple of months. The first two photos are from early October and the last two are from mid-December.

The tiny flowers were irresistible to all sorts of insects. Not that you could tell from my photos, but they were also popular with lots of large wasps. I, on the other hand, was not popular with lots of large wasps after I repeatedly shoved my camera and flash into their faces. Referring to myself at the paperwasp-arazzi didn't help. Quite possibly made it worse. Anyhoo, you can work out why I have no wasp portraits. And it's not because I sold them all to the Daily Mail.

But all those insects were obviously doing some good.

That looks like a good pollination strike rate.

Almost ready

About to shed...

Now how's that for a Christmas tree?

Joy to the world...

2011-12-24T22:18:00.000+10:00

...or...

Bah! Humbug!

There's an expression for every occasion.

Season's greetings

from the pademelons, possums

...and me

Owls

2011-12-15T14:48:00.004+10:00

Lesser sooty owl

Three species of owl live in this patch of rainforest.

Barking owls (Ninox connivens) —named for their calls and possibly their demeanour — sound like a small terrier that is stuck up a tree, but is not especially distressed by its predicament. The two syllable woof woof is so pooch-like that it sets off the local dogs. If you need to find out how many hounds are in your neighbourhood, get a barking owl.

Southern boobooks* (Ninox novaeseelandiae) are the most abundant owls in Australia. When I lived in Townsville, I saw them regularly, but I have yet to spot one at this place. I hear them all the time. Like barking owls, they have a two syllable call. Unlike barking owls, their call is quite restful. Not that I’d make a sleep tape of boobook calls, but there are worse sounds in the rainforest.

Which brings us to the species that I’m most likely to see at this place — the lesser sooty owl (Tyto multipunctatus). Beautiful plumage, the lesser sooty owl, but a call like a falling bomb or a hideous scream, depending on distance. For the past few months, the owls have been hanging around the house. I think they are making the most of the cicadas and beetles attracted to the lights. Several times, they’ve flown past and given me a heck of a surprise. Even the microbats make more noise when they zip by.

How cute is that?

There's your answer

_____________

*If you’re unfamiliar with the boobook in its natural surroundings, you might know it from its unnatural ones — perched on the heraldic crest of Ankh Morpork** or Sir Terry Pratchett's coat of arms.

**An alternative common name for this owl is morepork***, derived from the transliteration of its call.

***And mopoke. To make matters more confusing, that name is also applied to the tawny frogmouth**** (Warning: Link contains photos of darling baby frogmouths)

****Which isn’t an owl*****.

*****And doesn’t even make a similar call******

******Stoopid common names.

Missed it by that much

2011-12-15T14:17:00.000+10:00

The problem with trying to photograph a lunar eclipse in a rainforest is rain. And forest. Technically, that’s two problems, but either one is enough to foil the attempt. Here’s the moon an hour before the eclipse. That was the last I saw of it until about 2 a.m., when I went to bed. By that time, storm, moon and planetary shadow had all moved on and the moonlight was so bright I could count the leaves on the Mallotus tree by the window.

Happy Thanksgiving

2011-11-24T14:07:00.001+10:00

It's true that there's nothing quite like taking a nap in the sun...

...when you're certain that you won't end up as dinner.

Well, not as a human's dinner.

The Wednesday Herbarium: Buttonwood

2011-11-23T22:32:00.001+10:00

The buttonwoods(Glochidion harveyanum) are doing well. For the past month or so, the stems have been covered in tiny yellow flowers that are popular with flies and wasps.

Now they are loaded with blushing fruit that look delicious, but are ignored by the birds and possums. Despite their enticing appearance, the fruit are nothing more than papery capsules enclosing half a dozen seeds. With all the other possibilities in the rainforest, these are very low down on the list of preferred noms.

That's not to say that everyone avoids buttonwoods. Large-billed and Atherton scrubwrens and brown gerygones love these trees. The birds get into gangs to hunt insects among the leaves. (The only thing that stops them from mugging tree kangaroos is the difficulty of throwing gang signs with wings.)

And this morning, I saw a Lewin's honeyeater on a buttonwood. It was stabbing fruit with its beak. To get at the insects inside.

Probably.

It wasn't interested in the seeds cloaked in their scarlet arils. Didn't give them a second look.

I did, though. They're glorious.

Monday's marsupials

2011-11-21T17:58:00.001+10:00

Friday: "Oh yes, tree kangaroos are very common around here. I saw a couple of them in the garden only yesterday."

Saturday: "No, they really are quite abundant."

Sunday: "They're definitely about."

Monday: "You should have been here. Just saw one hopping across a lawn about ten metres from the road. Yeah, from the car as I was driving past. The things you see..."

Tree kangaroos are never around when you need them, so here's one that I ~~prepared~~ photographed earlier.

Burny Bean II: The Opening

2011-11-10T20:34:00.001+10:00

The burny bean flowers have opened. They don't last long. Still no sign of a pollinator. Will keep looking. (When I remember.)

Insect haiku

2011-11-08T21:47:00.000+10:00

On wild ginger, ant

Meets caterpillar, while bug

Sidles unnoticed

Burny bean (not burny and without beans at the moment)

2011-11-08T21:15:00.000+10:00

Whose daft idea was it to do NaNoWriMo this year? And why can't I write faster?

The burny bean (Mucuna gigantea) is flowering. (Oh, lots of other things are flowering too. But I can actually recognise the burny bean, unlike...well...just about everything else.) The vine scrambles over the rainforest canopy and makes narrow runways across gaps. There's a cat's cradle of burny bean across the driveway and the grey fantails like to sit there and watch what's going on.

The common name comes from its beaniness (it belongs to Fabaceae, the pea and bean family) and its burniness (the seed pod is covered in irritating hairs). (But not at this time of year.) It is also called a seabean (because it occurs in forests along beaches). As this rainforest block is 750 metres above sea level and on the western side of Queensland's highest mountain, I thought that calling it a seabean would get me into trouble with Advertising Standards.

I haven't seen any birds feeding from the flowers, so I wonder if this species is pollinated by bats? The petals are pale green and difficult to spot among all the other greens of the forest, so they are not screaming for diurnal attention. They also hang down in bunches, which says bat (or perhaps large moth) food to me. Still, I'm no judge of what a volant mammal might want for dinner, so I will have to observe and record.

But these flowers...ain't they grand?

Welcome to the world

2011-11-02T19:35:00.000+10:00

Pip — Crinkle Cut's new joey — is out and about and hopping around. Here are some photos from September, when he was getting to know the world outside mum's pouch.

11 September

17 September

30 September

Turkey/vulture

2011-11-02T18:41:00.000+10:00

Everyone's a critic

A spotted catbird (left) sings, while a brush turkey (right) looks on

In A General History of Birds (1821), ornithologist John Latham described this bird as the 'New Holland vulture'.

He later corrected his misapprehension, but I am considering resurrecting the name. Not because of the appearance — although they do look very vulturine — but because the brush turkey is the rainforest species most likely to knock you over, then rip out and eat your still twitching liver, possibly washing it down with a nice glass of chianti. (I'm a bit vague on the chianti, because I'm not sure if any of the local bottle shops stock it. A turkey’d probably have to buy it in Cairns and bring it up the range. But I'm only speculating, you understand. They might wash down a liver with cask moselle for all I know.)

Oh, ~~New Holland vultures~~ brush turkeys pretend to be harmless. On warm afternoons, they lie around in the sun.

But look at these claws. I swear they're adamantium.

One of the turkey hens has kicked a hole in the screen door. Now she can slide the door open and get into the kitchen. Why does she want to get in? To raid the pantry? To knock me over and rip out my liver? To see if I've got any chianti in the cupboard, to save her the trip down to Cairns and back?

No.

To take my shoes.

I find myself yelling, 'Don't you steal my shoes!' at the birds. I suppose this is good practice for my dotage.

I suspect my dotage is not as far away as I'd like.

Dragon time

2011-10-30T21:08:00.000+10:00

Now the warm weather has arrived, the Boyd’s forest dragons (Hypsilurus boydii) have livened up. Livening up for a forest dragon involves sidling around to the other side of a tree when they notice you and occasionally wandering down to ground level. They rely on camouflage — with bursts of frantic running — to keep them out of trouble. I rely on them relying on camouflage to allow me to get close enough to take a photo. I don’t care much for frantic running.

The species is named after John Archibald Boyd, an Englishman who ran sugar plantations in Fiji (1865 – 1882) and North Queensland (1882 – 1926). He was an enthusiastic collector, shipping great amounts of zoological and ethnographic material to naturalist William Macleay in Sydney.

In 1884, he gathered an assortment of animals from the lowland rainforest around Ingham and sent them south. On examining them, Macleay wrote:

I received a few days ago from Mr. Archibald Boyd of Ripple Creek, Herbert River, an earthenware jar containing specimens in spirits of several species of bats, muridæ, antechini, lizards and snakes. A very cursory glance at the contents of the jar satisfied me that Mr. Boyd had hit upon a new and untried and also a very prolific field for the Zoologist.

He named six new species of reptiles from the Ripple Creek collection — Tiaris boydii (the forest dragon) and five snakes. (Unfortunately, four of the snakes belonged to widespread and variable species that had all been described before.) The Ripple Creek dragon specimens were first lodged in the Macleay Museum, Sydney University, and are now in the type collection of the Australian Museum.

Although they are common on the Atherton Tablelands, forest dragons can be difficult to spot. In the two and a half years that I’ve been living here, I’ve only seen them a handful of times. They really are very well camouflaged. (And excellentat sidling.)

References
Macleay, W. (1884) Notes on some Reptiles from the Herbert River, Queensland. Proceedings of the Linnean Society of New South Wales 8: 432 – 436.

Macleay, W. (1884) Census of Australian snakes with descriptions of two new species. Proceedings of the Linnean Society of New South Wales 9: 548 – 568.

Normal service resumed!

2011-10-29T21:09:00.000+10:00

Many, many apologies for my absence. Once you get out of the habit of blogging, it's easy to let things slide.

So what's been going on here? There was some really hot weather. And then some really wet weather. And now we're back into the hot weather. Council have started work on a bridge to replace the causeway that TC Tasha washed away on Christmas Day. Someone's cattle wandered onto the road. And Bob Katter visited the bakery. Yeah...that's about it. Small towns, eh?

Cyclone season starts on Tuesday, as does NaNoWriMo. I will be stocking the pantry in anticipation of both those events. Alcohol might be involved at some stage. Most stages, probably.

Plenty of wildlife around at the moment, although most of it seems to be brush turkeys. (Seven of them in the garden last week.) Blue quandong, Millaa Millaa vine and other plants are in fruit at the moment, so the canopy is bustling with wompoo pigeons, brown cuckoo-doves and tooth-billed bowerbirds. And Crinkle Cut, one of the red-legged pademelons, has another joey.

Kauri - ing on

2011-08-14T19:28:00.002+10:00

When I moved in to this little house in the rainforest, one of my neighbours gave me a list of plants that had been recorded in the area. That was over two years ago, but despite that list I'm still not up to scratch with my identifications. Yes, I'm a slow learner when it comes to all things photosynthetic. We'll leave all the other categories for another day.

About a week ago, I noticed a lot of tree roo poo at the end of the driveway. The carpet of poo has been increasing daily, even though much of it seems to be carried away on a) tyre treads and b) the soles of my shoes. This is a good sign. (The volume of poo, not the extra layers on my shoes.) Tree kangaroos have been much less obvious since the end of the last wet Wet Season. I've only seen them about half a dozen times, so it's good to know that they are still about.

I thought I'd try to identify the trees above the driveway so I could determine which species were attracting the roos. Yes, after two years of limited success with plant IDs, I was going to work these out in a flash. Dunning-Kruger, anyone?

Three of the four were pretty straightforward, but one species was tricky. And when I say tricky, I mean it was so head-deskingly, face-palmingly, nose-bleedingly obvious that I should have recognised it instantly. A botanist friend pointed out that I'd been thinking flowering plants, when I should have been thinking conifers. The mystery tree was one of the iconic species of the Wet Tropics — the kauri pine (Agathis robusta).

Bright green, leathery leaves...

... arranged in opposite pairs...

... with pale green undersides

Beautiful new growth...

...looks like a delicate flower

Kauri pine is one of three species of Agathis in Far North Queensland, where it is found from Mt Finnigan (near Rossville) south to Tully. (It also occurs in rainforest in ME and SE Queensland.) The other two species — black kauri (A. atropurpurea) and bull kauri (A. microstachya) — have more restricted distributions. Agathis atropurpurea occurs above 750m between Mt Pieter Botte (near Mossman) and Mt Bartle Frere*, whereas A. microstachya is found only on the Atherton Tablelands between 600 and 1000m.

Distribution of Agathis robusta.

Agathis belongs to Araucariaceae, the family that also contains monkey puzzle trees, hoop, bunya and Norfolk Island pines (all Araucaria) and the Wollemi pine (Wollemia).

Kauris were among the most important timber trees in the wet forests of Far North Queensland. The last extensive stand of A. robusta was cut down in the 1970s and 80s. Few large trees remain today. The best known are the giant bull kauris at the edge of Lake Barrine, which were saved when the crater lake was declared a scenic reserve in 1888. Others are scattered through national parks — and private land.

Kauri pine hasn't been recorded in the block of rainforest, so that's a new record for the location. At least, a new post-logging record. I'll keep an eye open for more specimens ... now that I can identify them.

_____

*And, unlike Sarah Palin, I would be able to see Mt Bartle Frere from my house ... were it not for the trees.

The semi-precious forest

2011-08-10T16:09:00.000+10:00

If I knew more about plants, I'd be able to put names to these photos. For the moment, I'm simply enjoying the flush of new growth that's colouring the forest.

Bronze

Copper

Carnelian

Garnet

Sky!

2011-08-09T17:17:00.001+10:00

Forgive my indulgence in posting these photos, but today has been not only clear and still, but also pleasantly warm. I thought I'd better take pictures in case it doesn't happen again!

The canopy above the driveway

Blue quandong